Riddle Me This
by Megana
Summary: The clock is ticking as Basil, Dawson and Meg unravel a trail of riddles and clues find a valuable jewel and save the lives of two children.
1. The Problem

Chapter One

The Problem

* * *

Meg: I know I said that I had no inspiration for another story. Well, this one is the result of a riddle-fest I had with Skye-chan. Although I am positive that Skye should be writing this one because (a.) she actually came up with this idea in the first place (b.) she knows so many more riddles than I do and (c.) she can actually solve riddles 99 percent of the time, unlike me who can solve them about 45 percent of the time. Oh well, you're stuck with me. Eve Titus and Disney own the Great Mouse Detective and all related characters. I own all other characters.

* * *

"Thomas Butler became rich from the steel industry in Pittsburgh. Started out with practically nothing, ended up marrying a lady of delicacy and becoming one of the richest mice in the country. By the time he was forty, he was able to retire and moved to England, where he and his wife started a family. They have two children, a girl of five and a boy of three.

"Last night Mrs. Butler went to bed around 10 o'clock. Her husband promised that he would be in bed in another hour. But when Mrs. Butler woke up at midnight, she discovered that he had not come to bed. She got up to find him, and found him in the children's nursery. When she tried to beckon him back to bed, he told her that he would be there shortly. Mrs. Butler fell asleep again. She woke up to a crash and her husband's voice crying, '_The children! The children!_'

"The whole household was roused. They discovered that the cry came from the nursery. Mrs. Butler and Luther, the elderly butler, attempted to break the door down. Eventually the coachman and his son had to come up and chop the door down.

"They found Butler on the floor, with a wound to his head. He was unconscious. The children were gone."

This was the chilling tale Basil of Baker Street related to Dawson and I as we rode a train to Sussex. "Is it a kidnapping then?" Dawson asked. "A ransom note?"

"Yes. There was a note left on the little girl's bed. I believe it asked for the Eye of Diom in exchange for the two children's lives."

"The Eye of what?" I asked stupidly.

"A rare emerald discovered in the mines of Diom, India," Basil answered.

"Of course. They ask for some big fancy diamond-"

"Emerald," Basil corrected.

"Whatever. Why don't they ask for something simple, like one hundred thousand pound notes or something?"

"Creativity is a big part of the criminal's art, Meg."

"But," Dawson cut in, "the Eye of Diom has been missing for quite some time now. How would Butler have it unless he was a criminal himself?"

"We could ask Butler that, but I don't think he'd be up for it. He's been in a coma since last night due to trauma from the blow to his head."

"Is he going to recover?" Dawson asked.

Basil laughed grimly. "If he ever does, it does not look like he'd be in a position to relate anything of importance to us."

* * *

The Butler Manor was huge. It had everything from a massive garden to its own pond to a bell tower.

Mrs. Butler was a quiet and reserved person. She greeted us with a sense of self-possession, as if forbidding herself to worry over the fate of her children and the future of her husband.

"Thank you so much for coming, Mr. Basil," she said in a quietly grateful tone. "The local constable and some Mouseland Yard officials have been here, but they left to follow the trail left by the kidnappers."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Mrs. Butler, may I see the room where your husband was attacked and the children were abducted?"

"Certainly. Luther will lead the way."

The five of us went into the nursery. It was heart wrenching. Tables and chairs had been broken, as well as a small china tea set. There were a few dolls sitting on a chest in the corner, and a train set closer to the door. A trail of blood led from one of the beds to just a few paces away from the door. Basil merely glanced at all of this as he took out his power lenses and began a thorough examination of the room.

Dawson left the room. Curious, I followed him. Outside, in the hall, the ransom note had been left on a table. It was a page torn from a Bible, of all things: the last chapter of Revelation. In the margin on the side a note had been scrawled demanding for the Eye of Diom.

Dawson was squinting at it, trying to adopt Basil's methods of deduction. "1,569," Dawson muttered, looking at the page number.

I peered more closely at the page too. "Last chapter of Revelation..." I said quietly.

"King James' Version," Basil piped in, appearing at my shoulder.

I jumped. "Aren't you supposed to be searching the room, _Mister_ Basil?"

"Saw all I needed to see."

"What did you find?"

"Only that the Mouseland Yard officials and local force have followed a trail to a train station, as I have asked this good man out here," he said, motioning to the guard in the hallway. "So I believe we can leave them to their little goose chase. Mrs. Butler," he continued, turning to the poor woman, "may I ask you a few questions?"

"Certainly," she said softly.

"In private, please?"

She nodded, and silently took us to a study at the end of the hall.

"Mrs. Butler, when did you first meet Mr. Butler?"

"About eight years ago. I had gone to a gathering in Philadelphia with my father. He was so polite to me."

"Pardon me asking a few personal questions, but what did you know about him at that time?"

"Well, I knew that he was very successful in the steel industry."

"Anything about his connections?"

"No."

"What about when you were married? What did you know about him?"

Mrs. Butler seemed to regard Basil with a little suspicion. "I knew that he loved to ice skate and enjoyed a good pipe and was undeniably generous to any person that asked anything of him. He has a long list of charities, Mr. Basil, that he donates money to each year. My husband is a good man!"

"Unquestionably so," Basil said quickly. "I only ask these questions to form an opinion as to what kind of man your husband is. Mrs. Butler, do you know what the Eye of Diom is?"

"Yes."

"Why do you suppose the kidnappers asked you for it?"

She sighed. "Mouseland Yard asked me the same question. I do not know. As far as I am concerned, we have no way of obtaining it. And that is where I am so worried, Mr. Basil. What is going to happen to Rose and Michael if we cannot get this jewel for them? And who would want to hurt my children?"

"That is precisely what I am going to find out. Do you believe that Mr. Butler had somehow gained possession of the Eye of Diom?"

Mrs. Butler seemed to be very confused. "I... don't know... but... is it possible?" she said more to herself than to us. Her eyes widened.

We waited patiently for her to say something. "No. Of course not."

"Are you sure?" Dawson persisted.

"Why would he have a stolen emerald?" Mrs. Butler said a bit louder.

"Mrs. Butler, it is essential to know if he has it."

"And besides, it has not been proven that the Eye was stolen," Dawson added.

I had held my tongue up to this point. When Mrs. Butler denied that her husband had anything to do with the jewel, I interrupted, "What is more important, protecting your husband from a crime or saving the lives of your children?"

I had hit a sensitive spot. Mrs. Butler gave me an incredulous look. And then her expression changed to relief.

"Mr. Basil, Dr. Dawson, I do not know if my husband has anything to do with this emerald, but if he does, then I shall help you in any way I can to find it."

Basil gave me a grateful look. I smiled back.

Mrs. Butler went to a safe hidden behind a portrait. "This is my husband's personal safe. If he had anything to hide, it would be in here. I never use the safe myself, but I know the combination in case of emergencies." She set the combination and opened the safe. I peered over Basil's shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of an enormous emerald or something else, but instead, my eyes met a huge pile of papers.

Mrs. Butler gasped. She held up a large sealed letter. It was addressed to _My Dearest Danielle._ I assumed that Danielle was her name.

Basil and Dawson searched the safe while Mrs. Butler read her letter. She had tears in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" I asked. Basil and Dawson stopped what they were doing.

"There is no need to look in the safe anymore," Mrs. Butler said quite unnecessarily. She handed the letter to Basil.

He took it and read it through twice.

The he read it out loud for Dawson and I.

* * *

Meg: This is not one of my typical stories. And I have a major writing block on Chapter Two. I had had this chapter written for practically three weeks now, but decided to post it up now. Just bear with me as I try to get everything straightened out. I promise to finish it, but it might take awhile.


	2. And So it Begins

Chapter Two

And So Starts the Search

* * *

"'_Darling, I know that you can only be reading this because some unfortunate turn of events has befallen me. Do not be alarmed or upset. I will try to explain this all._

'_You know how poor I was before I made my fortune. You also remember that I had a younger brother, who fell into bad company, and eventually was killed in the Pacific, just as I was starting to make my fortune._

'_One day I received a package from someone who wished to remain anonymous. This was about one year after we had been married, Danielle. The note sent along with it said that my brother had entrusted the sender with the contents of the package sometime before he died. The sender wished that I would keep it. I opened the package, and to my horror recognized the stolen Eye of Diom, from the mines of India._

'_Danielle, I was baffled. I had no idea what to do. I couldn't turn in the Eye to the police; they would have thought I had stolen it!'"_

"Of course," Basil snorted before resuming.

"'_So I did the only thing I thought I could do; I hid it.'"_

Mrs. Butler gasped. "Tom behaved very strangely on our first year wedding anniversary! I remember because he put his left shoe on his right foot, and spilled red wine over his new silk cravat, and didn't even seem to notice!"

I did not see what those behaviors had to do with someone acting suspiciously, but I decided to not worry about it.

Basil continued: _"'But my original hiding place just didn't feel secure enough. So I moved it to another place after only a few months. Then someone tried to take it. I moved it again. Again some attempted to take it. I became so mad with worry over it being stolen that I finally devised a most effective way to hide it._

'_But whoever is after it has threatened my family. Danielle, I cannot give it to him unless it is absolutely necessary._

'_I have hidden the Eye behind a trail of clues. By solving the first clue, you can go on to the next one. Eventually you will be led to the hiding place of the Eye. I am sorry I cannot explain more._

_Your loving husband,_

_Thomas_

_P.S. Find Basil of Baker Street.'"_

"That is excellent!" I exclaimed. Everyone looked at me rather strangely. Mrs. Butler seemed appalled. Basil and Dawson looked baffled.

"What are you talking about?" Dawson asked.

I turned to Basil. "He asked for you and here you are!"

"Yes, it's all very convenient, but this letter still confounds me," Dawson said to Basil. "It seemed like Butler knew something was going to happen to him."

"I thought so. That was most likely his reason for staying up with the children last night."

"He did?" we all asked.

"Of course. A pipe was found under one of the beds, and ashes found on the carpet and on his person. He had prepared himself for a long vigil."

"And what 'clues' is Butler talking about?" Dawson asked.

Mrs. Butler stepped forward. She held up a piece of paper. "This was with the letter. But I can make neither head nor tail of it."

"Mrs. Butler, what is written on that paper is for you alone," Basil said slowly, carefully. "I would be more than happy to help you find the Eye of Diom to save your children. You can entrust the task to Mouseland Yard, but they may try to confiscate the emerald, because it is believed to be stolen. The decision is yours."

"Mr. Basil," Mrs. Butler began, "my husband knew that you would be able to help me. I would be more than honored if you would help me now."

"Then I advise you to do a few things. First of all, do not mention any of this to anyone else you know, especially the official police force."

Mrs. Butler nodded.

"Secondly, you must also assist us. We will need your help for the durance of this case. I do not know how many clues we will have to solve, but they were meant for you. Your husband must have created them so that only you will be able to decipher them. Do you understand me?"

"Oh yes, of course. I will try my best to help you in anything at all."

"And you are fine with Dr. Dawson and Mrs. Havers' assistance?"

"Yes."

"Excellent. May I see the paper?" Basil asked.

She wordlessly handed it to him. He glanced over the page. Then his face fell.

"What is it?" I asked.

He handed the paper to me. I read aloud:

_"My first is in lands and also in deeds,_

_My second in loch, and loam, but not in leaves,_

_My third is the end of knoll_

_My fourth is two in tolls."_

My jaw dropped. "This is a clue? This is a bunch of nonsense!"

Dawson took the paper from me and reread it. "A riddle!"

"Yes." Basil seemed extremely disappointed.

"What is wrong? Can't you solve it?" I asked.

Basil looked irritated. "Megana! You know me better than that!"

"You've figured out the meaning of this riddle?" Mrs. Butler asked, stunned.

"Yes. It's very simple."

"HOW?" we all said in unison.

Basil took the paper. "It's a word riddle. We'll take it line by line. What letters are in the words 'lands' and 'deeds'?"

"D and s," Dawson said.

"Good. Now, what letters are in 'loch and loam', but not in 'leaves'?"

"L and O and in loch and loam, but... leaves has an L too," Dawson reasoned. "So that would leave... O."

"Precisely."

"'The end of knoll?' Is that the letter L?" Mrs. Butler asked.

"Very good, madam," Basil said. "And the last line?"

We all looked in stupidity at the last line. "'My fourth is two in tolls'?" I said. "Tolls?"

Basil waited a bit impatiently for several minutes for us to figure it out. Finally he blurted out, "What two letters are in the word tolls?"

"L!" Mrs. Butler exclaimed.

"Exactly." Basil took a pen and wrote on the paper D-O-L-L. "It cannot be S-O-L-L; that word does not even exist. Mrs. Butler, does your daughter have a favorite doll?"

"Yes. It's in the nursery."

"Can you go get it please?"

"Certainly."

When she had left the room, I took Basil's hand. "Why were you so disappointed when you first saw the riddle?"

Basil laughed a little. "I'm sorry Meg, but I took once glance at that riddle, and saw no challenge in it. Call it pride or whatever you will, but I was really hoping that these clues would be harder to solve."

Dawson folded his arms and narrowed his eyes at Basil. "Two children's lives are in danger, and you're upset that it will be easier to save them?" he asked in disbelief, voicing my own opinion.

"I am sorry old friend," Basil said. "I did not mean to seem so heartless."

I gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Remember, these clues had to be easy enough for Mrs. Butler to solve."

Danielle Butler came back into the room with a porcelain doll. She handed it to Basil. "Rose loves this doll."

Basil took the doll. "There should be another clue in here somewhere," he said, searching it. Finally he pulled the head off the doll.

"What are you-" Mrs. Butler began.

"Aha! Here it is! The second clue!" Basil said, pulling out another piece of paper.

* * *

Meg: All right, Chappie Two is done! Now Chappie Three is next. I haven't even made a dent into that yet.

JWJ: STOP WRITING THESE STORIES!

Meg: STOP GETTING INTO THE AUTHOR'S NOTES!

JWJ: That riddle was so easy. Any moron could have solved it.

Meg: All right, what's black and white and red all over?

JWJ: A newspaper, duh!

Meg: Or... well, never mind. You'll see.


	3. Say What?

Chapter Three

Say What?

* * *

Meg: I need to clear something up. On my Meg Sarentis story timeline, this story takes place after "La Verité." And don't feel bad if you don't get the next riddle. It wasn't mean for someone outside the story to solve.

* * *

Mrs. Butler took the paper.

"It says, 'What is black and white and red all over?'"

Basil gave a start. He grabbed the paper and read the message again. Then he looked back in the doll's head. He then read the paper again, repeating each word slowly to himself. He started to pull out his pipe; I knew then that he was completely baffled.

"All of you, please tell me," he said, "what is black and white and red all over?"

We looked at one another, uncertain of what to say. It was probably the only riddle with the greatest number of possible answers.

"A newspaper?" Dawson suggested.

"A zebra with a sunburn?" Mrs. Butler tried.

"An albino wearing black who spilled red paint on himself!" I announced.

Basil raised an eyebrow at my suggestion. "Or...not," I said meekly.

"Why don't we try Dr. Dawson's idea?" Mrs. Butler asked. "Maybe the clue is in a newspaper."

"It depends. Is the clue in an old newspaper that Mr. Butler keeps? Or does he hide the clue each day in the newspaper? I am sorry Mrs. Butler, but that idea seems a bit broad."

"Isn't it worth a shot?" she persisted.

Basil looked at Dawson. The doctor nodded.

"All right Mrs. Butler."

* * *

Two and a half hours later, amidst a bunch of old newspapers, we were nowhere nearer solving the clue than we had been before.

"I still say it's an albino wearing black who spilled red paint on himself," I said.

Dawson looked at me as if he wanted to say, _You're such a moron_. Mrs. Butler pulled apart newspapers, trying not to admit to herself that there was nothing there. Basil was smoking his pipe. He had not spoken a word for almost an hour.

"Mrs. Butler," he said all of a sudden, "is there nothing in this house that would be 'black and white and red all over?'"

"Nothing that stands out in my mind," Mrs. Butler said apologetically. "There are numerous black things, white things, and red things, but nothing that would hold true to the riddle."

"There could be an albino wearing black who spilled red paint on himself somewhere around here," I repeated.

"_Megana,_" Basil groaned. "Stop saying that."

"You don't seem to have any bright ideas, _Mister Basil_," I said, starting to lose my temper. "What's your solution to the riddle?"

"I don't have a solution, _Miss Sarentis_," Basil snapped. "But it certainly would be better than an albino wearing black who spilled paint all over himself!"

"All right, I am intervening in this argument before it gets out of hand," Dawson cut in. "I suggest that we split up and look for something that is 'black and white and red all over.' Mrs. Butler and Meg will take the first floor. Basil and I will take the second."

"I have a better idea," Basil said. "You and Mrs. Butler take the first floor, and Meg and I will take the second."

"Fine."

Basil and I set off for the first of the rooms we were to explore. Basil gripped my shoulder as we walked into the first room.

"Well Meg, I guess the simplicity of the first riddle balances the difficulty of the second."

"Basil, I'm sorry for insulting you about not having a solution. I-"

"I guess we are all just a bit touchy because we have gotten nowhere on this second riddle," he cut in. "At least you had an answer." We looked about the room. It was decorated in various shades of blue.

I forced a laugh. "Like that was a real answer."

Basil began to look around for something that would match the riddle. "Where did you get that answer anyway? I've never heard that one before."

"An albino wearing black who has spilled red paint on himself?" He nodded and then knelt down on the floor to look under the bed. "You'll never guess it; Olivia Flaversham told me that one."

Basil smacked his head on the bottom of the bed. "Ow!"

"Are you all right?" I asked, going over to him.

"Yes," Basil said through gritted teeth, sitting against the bed rubbing his head.

I knelt down next to him. "Does it hurt?"

"No. I've dealt with worse-"

"Here, let me kiss it where it hurts and make it better," I said playfully.

"Meg, I'm _fine_," he protested as I planted a kiss on his head.

I frowned. "What's wrong?" He didn't say anything. "Smile. Please?"

I could see a smile forming on the corners of his mouth. He leaned over and kissed me on the lips. "I can't bring you on anymore cases if you keep distracting me like this," he said, smiling.

I laughed. "I can't help it."

Basil stood up. He pulled me up. "I need to get rid of you."

"Try!" I shouted, throwing my arms around him.

"Meg!" he said, trying to sound stern but failing. "We're on a case."

"You're no fun." I let go of my hold on him. "Okay, I'm ready to be serious."

I took one look at Basil and began to laugh.

Basil rolled his eyes.

I tried my hardest to stifle my giggles. "All right. Serious. I am serious. Seriously."

Basil shook his head, his eyes twinkling. "Let's try the next room."

The next room was in shades of green.

Basil closed the door. He picked me up and swung me around. Then he kissed me.

"Hypocrite," I muttered.

* * *

We more or less got through the search of the second floor, but failed to find anything. It was on our way back to the study that Luther, the old butler, approached us.

"Mr. Basil, Mrs. Butler would like a word with you in the conservatory," he said.

I felt a surge of excitement course through my veins. Had they found the answer to the riddle?

We practically ran to the conservatory, attracting a bit too much attention from Mouseland Yard officials in the hallway. Basil came to a halt, causing me to crash into him. Luckily he caught both our balances. Giving a curt nod to the officials, he led the way to the conservatory at the back of the house.

The conservatory was filled with exotic plants that I could not even begin to name. Basil and I made our way to one small corner, where Dawson and Mrs. Butler were waiting by an easel, where a half-finished painting of a Grecian goddess sat. Tubes of paint and brushes were scattered on a table nearby. A painter's smock hung on a hook on the wall. A few other paintings, from landscapes to portraits, leaned against the wall. Several crates stood nearby.

"Mr. Basil!" Mrs. Butler exclaimed. "I think we've found the thing that is "black and white and red all over!"

"Excellent! Where is it?"

Mrs. Butler motioned to the easel and the crates. "One of my husband's favorite hobbies is painting. He does it merely for leisure. Well, he stores some of his old artwork in these crates, and I thought that perhaps the answer to our clue would be in there."

"And is it?"

Dawson took off the half-finished painting from the easel and placed another canvas on it. "Take a look."

Basil gasped. "Meg," he said, "I believe that your answer to the riddle is not far from Thomas Butler's solution."

* * *

Meg: _(grins)_ Cliffhanger! What is the answer to the riddle?

JWJ: There once was a dumb blonde,  
Who wrote stupid fanfic all day long.  
She was punched in the face,  
And disappeared without a trace,  
And so her fanfic was completely gone.

Sarah: That was an awful limerick.

JWJ: It rhymed though.

Sarah: _(sighs) _

Meg: Basil and Meg weren't really acting like they were a couple before because they're on a case, and they have to act professional. I really hope I am pulling off this relationship thing right.


	4. The Lord of the Night and the Knight of ...

Chapter Four

The Lord of the Night and the Knight of Renowned Fame

* * *

Meg: Don't worry if you don't get this one either. I just wanted to not have to make up an actual clue for this one. Call it laziness or whatever you will. I promise for an actually solvable clue in the next chapter. Oh, and I fixed some mistakes. The moron I am, I left out one line of the stanza for the clue, and I forgot to put seven dashed lines for the answer. Sorry everyone!

* * *

Basil moved so I could look at the painting more clearly.

A tall mouse, deathly pale and dressed all in black, stooped over a female mouse lying on the ground, who had black hair and white fur. She was dressed in white. Her neck and her white dress were stained with blood. The tall mouse's mouth, as well as the front of his shirt, was covered in blood. Two canine-like teeth protruded from his mouth.

It was hideous.

But there it was, _black and white and __red all over_.

"Dracula," Basil breathed. "I never would have guessed it."

Mrs. Butler sighed. "My husband loved that book so much when it first came out six years ago. He used it as inspiration for the painting, but it's so grotesque that I made him put it away."

"Dawson! Look for a paper attached to the back of the painting," Basil commanded.

Dawson turned the painting around. "Here is something!" He pulled out another paper.

Basil wiped his brow. "Well, my friends, we are definitely on the right track."

* * *

Back in the study, Mrs. Butler read aloud the third clue:

_"'...May'st thou be deem'd a perjur'd devil, _

_Ev'n from Marchena unto Seville; _

_From Loja to Granada hated, _

_From London Tow'r to England baited. _

_At cards should'st thou attempt to play, _

_Or waste at ombre all the day, _

_May no crown'd monarch or spadille _

_Attend thy efforts of thy skill: _

_When angry corn disturbs thy toe, _

_May blood at ev'ry paring flow; _

_And of each tooth the barbers draw, _

_The stump still fester in thy jaw: _

_Nay, since Aeneas-like thou mean'st to fly, _

_The death of Barabbas may __xxxxxxx__ die!' (page 783_)

O knight of renowned fame,

Thy quests live in eternal shame

But thy name in eternal flame.

O Rueful knight! O Knight of Lions!

O Knight of madness and global fame!"

No one said anything at first.

"The first part is written by another hand, but the second part is in Tom's handwriting," Mrs. Butler said.

"Your husband was relentless, madam," Dawson groaned to Mrs. Butler.

"Butler wanted us to find the name of the knight he mentions in his own rhyme," Basil said. He pointed to the dashed lines in the first part. "That has to be where this knight's name goes. His name must be the key to finding the fourth clue."

"So what knight's quests live in 'eternal shame'?" Mrs. Butler asked.

I strained to think of any knight at all. Nothing fit. But the first part of the clue looked so familiar...

Dawson was squinting at the poem. "Basil," he began, "I believe I have seen that first poem somewhere before..."

"Really?"

"Yes, but I cannot remember where."

"Try to remember doctor."

_But, if Aeneas-like thou mean'st to fly, _

_The death of Barabbas may..._

I knew I had heard it somewhere else before... but where? Dawson was struggling to recall it also. Finally he gave up. "It's no use."

"Mr. Basil, what about this part here: 'O Knight of Lions!' Could it be Richard Lionheart?"

Basil shook his head. "'Thy quests live in eternal shame'? I don't remember him being a shamed personage.

"The first part... _'Ev'n from Marchena unto Seville; _'Seville is in Spain!" I said.

"But _'From London Tow'r to England baited.'_" Dawson said. "London Tower is in England."

"Barrabas? How did he die?" Mrs. Butler asked.

We all looked at one another. No one seemed to know.

_But, if Aeneas-like thou mean'st to fly, _

_The death of Barabbas may..._

"It has to be some famous, renowned knight..." Basil muttered.

"Real or fictional?" Dawson asked.

"How the deuce am I supposed to know?"

"King Arthur? Sir Gallahad? Sir Lancelot?" Mrs. Butler asked.

"Amadis de Gaula..." Dawson suggested. "How about Roland, from the Charlemagne stories?"

Basil looked at the dashed lines for a minute. "None of those names fit. There are seven dashed lines."

My mind drifted back to a schoolroom... to a young girl, reciting to the class...

_"Hear me complain... spare me..."_ No, that's not how it went.

"Maybe the knight is a man who was knighted by the queen," Basil said.

"But which one? There are so many to choose from."

Schoolroom... grandmother, scolding me, punishing me, sending me to bed without supper...

_But, if Aeneas-like thou mean'st to fly, _

_The death of Barabbas may...may..._

"Sir Issac Newton!" Mrs. Butler blurted out.

"Doesn't fit," Dawson sighed. "I swear I've heard that poem somewhere before! 'Ah! Hear my plaint, unlucky fellow...' no, that's not it."

"That's it!" I shouted.

Everyone jumped.

"What's 'it'?" Mrs. Butler asked.

"Dawson, you made me remember!"

"Remember what?"

_"'Ah! Hear my plaint, unlucky knight, _

_Pull in thy reins and do me right, _

_And prithee spare, at my request, _

_The flanks of that poor, battered beast. _

_Consider she whose heart's at stake, _

_False man! Is not a scaly snake; _

_But, a young lambkin, meek and true, _

_Just wean'd from teat of mother ewe. _

_Say, monster, why undo a maid _

_More beautiful than ever strayed _

_With Diana, huntress of the wood, _

_Or Venus, native of the flood? _

_But, if Aeneas-like thou mean'st to fly, _

_The death of Barabbas may QUIXOTE die!'"_

Dawson immediately got it. "That's it!"

"What?" Basil and Mrs. Butler asked.

"Don Quixote!" I cried. "Knight of the Rueful Countenance! Knight of the Lions! Most well-known and beloved knight-errant that ever walked the face of the earth! Haven't you ever read the stories about him? About how he mistook windmills for giants? Two flocks of sheep for two armies engaged in battle? Inns as castles?"

"Yes! Quixote was mad! And his quests would definitely put him to shame!" Dawson added.

Basil shook his head. "I've never read _Don Quixote_."

"I read it in school," Dawson said.

"So did I! I had to recite a poem in class, so I chose Altisidora's farewell song to Don Quixote, all four stanzas. When my grandmother found out that I had chosen such "trash," she forbade me to recite it. But I already had the whole poem committed to memory, so I recited it anyway. She found out, and was so furious, that she would not let me read anything but the Bible for months afterwards. I haven't forgotten that poem since."

Mrs. Butler started to laugh. "What a funny way to remember a poem!"

Basil shrugged. "Mrs. Butler, I suppose your husband has a copy of _Don Quixote_?"

"Yes. That is one of his favorite books."

"Where is it?"

"It should be in the library."

* * *

After a search of the many shelves in the massive library, we finally found the book we were looking for. On page 783, we found another set of clues, as well as a copy of the whole poem.

Basil handed the paper to me. "For solving the last clue, you may have the honor of reading us the next one."

* * *

Meg: It's one in the morning, and right now I could care less about clues. Someone really needs to go to bed.


	5. L’endroit pour des fleurs et des hommes ...

Chapter Five

L'endroit pour des fleurs et des hommes mystérieux

* * *

Lizz: I didn't get this riddle. In fact, none of us did.

Meg: But it is solvable, at least!

Lizz: Good luck!

* * *

I cleared my throat.

The old butler came into the room. "Mrs. Butler, an Inspector Douglas from Mouseland Yard would like to ask you some questions."

Mrs. Butler frowned. "Tell him we're busy."

Basil touched her arm and leaned in close to her ear. "Mrs. Butler, you had better go. We don't want the Yard to get suspicious."

Mrs. Butler pursed her lips. "But... oh, I suppose you're right. I'm not helping much anyway."

"That's not true-" Dawson began.

She waved her hand at him. "I haven't helped with solving any of these clues so far. Go ahead. You all can go anywhere you wish to in this house. I'll be with you as soon as I can."

When she left the room, Basil nodded to me. "Go ahead."

_"'Just the start of a word can mean so much in_

_Answering a clue,_

_Remember where I love to sit,_

_Danielle, Rose, and Michael with me_

_In spring, summer, and fall._

_Never forget, the answer is in each beginning.'"_

Basil frowned. "Read it again."

I did. He took the paper from me and studied it for a few seconds.

"I believe Mrs. Butler would be better able to assist us with this one," Dawson said.

"But she just left."

"'The answer is in each beginning?'" I repeated.

"'Just the start of a word can mean so much...'" Dawson read. "What does that mean?"

I flipped through the pages of Don Quixote, trying to find another clue.

"Each beginning..." Basil muttered. "Each beginning?"

"Why doesn't this clue rhyme like the other ones did?" Dawson questioned aloud.

"Yes, that's very strange," I said.

Basil nodded slowly, as if something was coming to him. "Yes, that is strange. He could have reworded it to say:

_'Just the start of a word can mean so much in_

_Answering a clue,_

_Remember where I love to sit with you,_

_Rose and Michael in tow_

_Where we'd sit every spring, summer, and fall._

_The answer is the beginning of it all.'_

"Then the wording wouldn't be so awkward, or the rhyming so off." Suddenly his eyes grew wide. "Dawson!" he cried.

I coughed. Basil winced. "And… Meg."

"Thank you. You were saying?"

"Butler meant the sentence structure to be awkward for a reason. It's a part of the clue."

I reread the poem. "The beginning? Start of a word? What word?"

"In each beginning!" Basil exclaimed. "The first word of each line!"

He grabbed a pencil and wrote J-A-R-D-I-N.

"Jardin? That's French for garden!" Dawson said, astonished.

"Let's go."

* * *

We raced out to the garden. There were a few Mouseland Yard officials searching for clues. "Figures," Basil muttered.

He went back inside, Dawson and I at his heels. He sidled up to one of the maids out in the hallway. "Lovely garden you have out there," he said to her.

"Yes, sir. It's gorgeous, isn't it?"

"Yes. Can you tell me, was it a habit of your master to sit out there in the spring, summer or fall?"

She shrugged. "I suppose he did go out there once in a while."

Basil frowned again. Apparently he was not satisfied with that answer.

"Didn't he go out at all? With his wife? Or his children?"

The maid shrugged again. "He'd play with them in the garden."

"But did he have a certain seat where he would sit?"

"Not that I know of."

Basil drew a deep breath. "Thank you," he said stiffly as he walked away.

Basil questioned a few more of the household staff. I went back outside and walked around the garden. There were several stone benches among the rows of flowers and shrubbery.

I got down on my hands and knees and looked under the bench. Nothing. I wondered if the clue was buried under on of these benches. But we couldn't start digging anything up without attracting some attention.

I went to the next bench, but with the same result. I checked each of the five benches, but came up with nothing. Frustrated, I sat down on the last bench I had checked. I closed my eyes.

"Where he loved to sit... now, if I was a steel tycoon, where would I want to sit with my wife and children?"

"Perhaps a chair of steel?" a male voice with a heavy Irish brogue suggested.

I spun around. "What?"

A young man stepped out from the shrubs. He was dressed in a slightly soiled gray suit and a black tie. "A chair of steel. Isn't that what those steel industry men want?"

I nodded dumbly, speechless from the embarrassment of having someone overhear me.

He extended his hand. "I don't believe I have had the pleasure of makin' your acquaintance."

I shook his hand. "I'm Megana Havers."

He smiled. "Pleased to meet you, Megana. What's a lass like you doin' here, at the scene of a crime?"

"Actually, I'm here with Mr. Basil."

"Oh!" he said, sounding disappointed.

"And you are?" I said, my face turning red.

"Oh, pardon my manners. Arlen Gillespie's the name. I'm here with Mouseland Yard."

"Really?"

"Meg? Meg!" That was Dawson's voice.

"Oh, I must go..." I started.

Arlen bowed. "It was a pleasure, Megana."

I was still blushing when I reached Dawson.

"Where were you?"

"Trying to find a clue," I answered breathlessly.

He looked at my face. "Get a little too much exercise?" he asked.

"Yes..." I said slowly. I looked back at the path from whence I came. Arlen was just walking out of it. He waved to me. I waved back shyly as I followed Dawson inside. "Where's Basil?"

Dawson chuckled. "You remember the answer to the riddle? Jardin?"

"Of course! That's where we're trying to find the next set of clues!"

Dawson shook his head. "Not that 'garden.' Basil managed to pull aside Mrs. Butler for a few moments and ask her about the clue. She told us that there is a park called "Le Jardin," not far from here, where the Butlers go with their children nearly every afternoon."

"We were in the wrong garden the whole time?" I said in disbelief.

"Yes."

"You've got to be kidding me!"

* * *

Mrs. Butler could not get away from the Yard officials, so she sent her children's nurse to show us the spot where the family usually sits.

The middle-aged nurse pointed to the wooden bench, next to two petunia bushes. "'Ere is where the family," she said in a heavy Cockney accent, sounding slightly annoyed.

Basil turned to me. "Distract her," he whispered, motioning to the nurse.

"What? How?" I hissed back.

"Lead her away somewhere."

I rolled my eyes, but went over to the nurse anyway. "How big is this park?" I asked.

"It's pretty large."

I looked back at Basil. The detective nodded encouragingly. "Is there a water fountain here?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Can you show it to me?" I blurted out.

Basil groaned at the direct way I had asked that question. The nurse gave me a strange look. "Yes... follah me, miss..."

I glared at Basil as we walked away.

At the fountain, I tried to engage the nurse in some small talk. I suddenly saw Arlen Gillespie walking towards us.

"Well, if it isn't Meg Havers!" he beamed. "What a coincidence!"

"Mr. Gillespie! How nice to see you again," I said, failing to mask the surprise I felt. My cheeks began to burn.

"Thought you were with Mr. Basil."

"I... I was..." I said cautiously.

"Mr. Basil s'over there," the nurse said, motioning in their direction. "We were jess lookin' at th' fawntain."

The Irish mouse perked up even more. "Oh? What are you all doin' at Le Jardin?"

The nurse looked at me. It seems she had wanted to know this all along. I was sweating.

"Erm... well, Basil thought that... I mean... It's like this... he thought that the attacker had... been watching his family when they went to the park... because they go so often... you know... and he was hoping he'd get some sort of clue." I was aware that my face was burning again.

The nurse did not look satisfied. Arlen laughed. "Sounds silly to me, but then again, Mr. Basil is not one to do things th' ordinary way."

To my relief I caught sight of Basil and Dawson approaching us from behind Mr. Gillespie's shoulder.

"Well, I had better get goin'," Arlen said. "Good luck on the search, Miss Havers." He vanished among the bushes.

Basil took my arm. "Who was that you were talking to?"

"A man from Mouseland Yard," I answered. "Arlen Gillespie."

"Gillespie? I've never heard of him," Basil said, scowling. "Why'd he leave so quickly?"

I felt guilty for some reason. "I don't know."

* * *

Sarah: Who is that guy, Arlen Gillespie? Is he hot? Is he Sean Biggerstaff hot?

Emma: I don't even know who that is.

RAEB: I do! He's Oliver Wood from the Harry Potter movies!

Leigh: _(sighs)_ He is so HOTT!

Meg: _(groans)_ On with the story people!


	6. One Child

Chapter Six

One Child

* * *

Sarah: Kudos to Skye-chan for figuring out the last riddle!

* * *

Basil looked over his shoulder. "Where is that scoundrel going?"

"Basil! He's just working for the Yard."

The detective muttered something unintelligible.

"What?"

We stepped into the carriage. "I don't like the sounds of this Gillespie character."

I sighed. "Oh, you're suspicious of everyone!"

"How do you know he was from the Yard?"

"He told me so."

"Did you see him talking to anyone from the Yard? Did you see a badge? Anything?"

"No..." I said uneasily. "Basil, stop it! I can't stand being cross- examined!"

"I have to question everything!"

"Dawson," I whined. "Please make him stop! He's making me nervous."

Dawson grinned. "Basil, leave Meg alone."

Basil glared at him.

I glared at Basil.

Dawson sighed.

* * *

Night had fallen by the time we returned to the Butler Manor. Mrs. Butler was anxiously waiting for us at the door. Her eyes seemed to question us if we had been successful.

Basil did not reveal anything until we were safely back in the study.

He handed Mrs. Butler a wooden box. "It was buried under the bench."

She seemed extremely relieved. She hugged the box to herself and walked to the window, looking out into the darkness.

Basil rapidly stepped towards the window and drew the curtains shut.

"For privacy," he explained.

Mrs. Butler sank down onto a chair, still hugging the box. We waited for her to open it.

After several minutes of apprehension, she still had not moved to open the box. I could not take it anymore.

"Don't you want to open it?" I asked.

She seemed to come back to earth. "I... I'm sorry." She lifted the lid of the box and took out two pieces of paper. She unfolded them and read them, her eyes moving across the lines.

"My Lord! Tom, what were you thinking?" she gasped, turning pale.

"What does it say?" Basil asked anxiously.

She handed the papers for him to read. The first paper read:

_Poor little Sophia,_

_Why was this child taken?_

_The last daughter of tormented parents_

_Their last hope was forsaken._

_Too short was your new-begun life,_

_Infant child you were,_

_Zero years of life_

_But your death is my cure._

_You seek Saint Rose_

_Find her grave,_

_But first her family name_

_Within this riddle I gave._

On the second paper was a series of numbers:

11-11-2-4-16-6-1-12-2-1-10-11

"His clue is about a dead infant?" Dawson asked.

Mrs. Butler seemed very distressed.

"It's... morbid," I slowly.

Mrs. Butler let out a low moan as she sunk into a chair.

"It's terrible! It's awful! Tom, I hardly know anything about you! How could you be like this?"

"Mrs. Butler, it's all right," Dawson said quietly.

"No, it's not!" she cried. "I never knew he was like this."

Basil was counting to himself. I nudged him in the arm. He continued counting to himself. I nudged him harder. He brushed my arm away.

I meant to lightly step on his foot, but I ended up stomping on it.

He gasped. "Meeeeeeeeg!" he moaned. "What was that for?"

I winced. "I'm sorry. But please do something for Mrs. Butler."

"Like what?"

I was getting angry. "Basil, she feels like she knows nothing about her husband. She's upset. She feels like her husband is not the man she thought he was."

"Meg, I'm not good at comforting people."

I threw my hands up in disgust. "Fine." I went over to the distressed woman. "Mrs. Butler, what's wrong?"

Mrs. Butler gestured toward the poem. "I... it... it's horrible! He's morbid! He's disgusting! He's repulsive!"

"How?"

"A dead baby? 'But your death is my cure?' For all I know, he could have killed the baby!"

"Mrs. Butler, he risked his own life to guard his children. Why would he kill an infant?" Basil said quietly.

Mrs. Butler looked at him, tears in her eyes. "How can you be so sure?"

"Well, why would he reveal it to you? I believe the clue leads us to the grave of an infant, perhaps a child of a family he knows."

"Yes!" Dawson said. "Do you know of any family that lost a baby girl named Sophia?"

"No."

"Don't any of you see? The clue reveals the last name of this baby Sophia!" Basil exclaimed, betraying some impatience with all of us. "We will find her grave at St. Rose's Cemetery, where Butler has probably left us another clue!"

"But why did he pick that location?" Mrs. Butlre asked falteringly.

"I believe none of us can answer that," Basil said cautiously. "But please Mrs. Butler, we must continue with the search."

Mrs. Butler paused.

The shattering of glass met our ears. The curtains ruffled as a flying object went sailing past Dawson's head and thudded to the ground. I jumped. Mrs. Butler screamed.

Basil bounced to the object. It was a rock with a note tied around it.

"'_Twenty-four hours, Mr. Basil. Meet me at London Bridge with the Eye of Diom. Come alone. Don't fail to show up without it, or else the children will be gotten rid of... permanently.'"_

"I hate these threat notes," I groaned.

"So do I," Mrs. Butler replied quietly, closing her eyes..

"They're not being creative!" I said, pointing an accusing finger at Basil. "You said earlier today that creativity was a big part of the criminal's art. This is not creative!"

Basil and Dawson burst out laughing.

"All right, there's something wrong with this picture," I began. "We just got a threat note and you're both... laughing? We need to solve this clue!"

Basil smiled. "Consider it solved."

"YOU SOLVED IT?" everyone chorused in shock.

"Well, mostly."

"You're taking the fun out of all of this," I complained.

"Yes, I agree," Dawson said. "You're astounding!"

"Well, what's the answer?" Mrs. Butler asked eagerly.

"Try to figure it out yourselves."

"Basil!" Dawson and I yelled.

"Here, let me show you, step by step. Count how many lines there are in the riddle."

Dawson made a quick calculation. "Twelve."

"Now count how many numbers are in this sequence here."

Dawson and I counted those. "Twelve again?" he questioned.

"Odd..." Mrs. Butler whispered.

"So? What do the numbers mean?" I asked.

Basil pointed to the first line, then to the first number in the sequence. "Meg, find the eleventh letter in this line.

I counted it out. "S," I said.

"Now give me the eleventh letter in the next line."

"C."

"Now the second letter in the third line."

"H?"

We continued counting letters until we reached the twelfth line.

Dawson wrote out on a paper S-C-H-I-N-T-Z-H-O-F-E-R.

"I've never heard that last name before," Mrs. Butler said.

"We need to pay a visit to the undertaker of the cemetery," Basil said.

* * *

I stayed up with Mrs. Butler as Basil and Dawson went to the cemetery. Eventually she drifted off to sleep, exhausted from her ordeal. I went back downstairs to wait for Basil.

It was one o'clock in the morning. The rooms were dark and filled with shadows. To pass the time I went around the house, making sure all the doors and windows were secure.

It was while closing one door to a balcony that I noticed a shadow hanging on the side of the wall.

I shrieked. The shadow fell off the wall with an identical yell.

I raced to the edge of the balcony. The figure got gingerly to his feet and stepped into the moonlight. I recognized the soiled gray suit. "Mr. Gillespie?" I said in disbelief.

"Aye. Would that be Miss Meg? Could you help me a bit here, lass?"

I hurried downstairs to the French doors that led out to the garden. "Mr. Gillespie, I am so sorry," I said, leading him to the drawing room. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine." He took out a handkerchief and wiped his brow.

"What were you doing out there anyway?" I asked, remembering Basil's suspicions.

"I was..." he huffed," lookin' for clues."

"On the wall?"

Arlen took something out of his pocket. "I found a piece o' cloth there. Probably left by the kidnapper."

I looked at the cloth. It was black, but looked like it had grease stains on it. "Basil would definitely be able to tell you anything you want to know about where the owner of this has been. Perhaps we can find the kidnapper!"

"Ah... think I will show it to Inspector Gordon first. But mum's the word, lass. We don't want just anyone to know about this, eh?" he said, pulling back his jacket to reveal a pistol sitting in a holster.

My eyes grew wide. "What?" I said weakly.

"Be a good girl," he said, patting me on the cheek. "I must be goin'. No rest for the police; not when there's crime around."

He got up and left through the French doors. I bolted the doors behind him.

* * *

Basil and Dawson had managed to "persuade" the undertaker to take them to the grave of Sophia Schintzhofer. One hour later they stood at the foot of the small plot.

Dawson read the iron cross erected over the plot.

SOPHIA SCHINTZHOFER

Jan. 1819- July 1819

There were four other identical crosses nearby: the two parents, Andrew and Anastasia, one infant daughter, Catherine, and a nine-year-old daughter, Anastasia. Sophia lived and died after the deaths of her sisters.

"Butler was right," Dawson said. _"'The last daughter of tormented parents/ Their last hope was forsaken.'"  
_  
Basil looked at the ground. "There's a bare spot here, like someone had been digging there before. The ground is hard, so it was not recently, but it was not so long ago to give the grass a chance to grow back.

Basil took the small spade he had been carrying and dug. He had only to dig up two spadefuls of dirt before he struck something.

"Another box, Dawson! We've found the fifth clue!"

* * *

Meg: You find interesting things when you walk through a cemetery. I found the Schintzhofer family: Andrew and Anastasia, and their three young daughters Anastasia, Catherine, and Sophia. All I did was change the date of death for Sophia to be one hundred years before she actually died. It was so sad to see the three little crosses and their dates of death; they were so young.

RAEB: Can you say morbid?

Meg: I know, I have _way_ too much time on my hands to be doing such things.


	7. An Unknown Voice

Chapter Seven

An Unknown Voice

* * *

_(Leigh and Meg look through a magazine.)_

Leigh: I like that one!

Meg: Oh, how about this one?

Leigh: And this one!

_(RAEB, Emma, and Sarah walk in.)_

RAEB: What are you two doing?

Leigh: Looking at houses in Charleston.

Emma: Why?

Meg: Because Leigh's going to buy me a house there when she is rich and famous.

Leigh: Buy YOU a house? I was going to buy myself a house!

Emma: _(points to magazine)_ I like that house!

Sarah: _(gasps)_ It's over a million dollars! You'll never be able to afford that!

Meg: Shoot. Why can't I think of a novel so I can buy a nice house in Charleston? Leigh can!

Leigh: Well, maybe you can sell your Meg Sarentis stories to some publishing company.

Meg: That'd be so awesome if other people didn't already own the GMD characters. I hate my life!

RAEB: Delusional.

* * *

Basil and Dawson did not get back until two thirty that morning. I was sleeping on an armchair in front of Mrs. Butler's room, clutching a dagger in my hands.

Basil was surprised at this. He reached over and pulled the dagger out of my hands.

Then he winked mischievously at Dawson. He crept up to me.

"Megana... wake up...

"Hmmm..." my eyelids fluttered a bit.

"Meg..."

"Leave her alone, Basil. She's tired."

"Hah! She'll be furious with me in the morning if I don't wake her up now."

"Five more minutes..." I muttered.

"'What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Megana is the sun!'"

"Wha'?" I opened my eyes and blinked a few times. "Basil of Baker Street, stop mocking me."

"Me? Mock you? Never!"

Dawson rolled his eyes. "I'm leaving."

"No, please don't. Basil's being silly. Who knows what he might say or do?"

Dawson chuckled. "That's your fault."

"Obviously I am a bad influence on you," I yawned as Dawson went into the study.

Basil knelt down on the ground and took one of my hands. "Meg, you're the reason men write poems and go to war!"

"All right, who are you and what have you done with Basil?"

"Well, I'm at war with Ratigan right now."

"But that didn't start because of me."

Basil straightened himself up. "All right, ignore the flattery I am trying so hard to bestow upon you."

"I'm tired!"

"Obviously," Basil said, twirling my dagger between his fingers. His good humor had diminished.

My hands flew to my mouth. "Oh... Basil, it's not what you think!"

"I beg your pardon? Pray tell, what exactly am I supposed to think about this?"

I started to sweat. "Ratigan hasn't threatened us," I said in a small voice.

Basil seemed exasperated. "Then why are you in a chair in front of Mrs. Butler's room with a dagger?" I opened my mouth to speak. "And don't tell me you were sleepwalking!"

I shut my mouth. Then I stood up and brushed past him. "I wasn't going to say that."

"Then what were you going to say?"

I looked out one of the hall windows and took a deep breath. "Basil do you remember that Arlen Gillespie fellow? The one that works for the Yard, who we met at Le Jardin?"

"Yes," Basil said shortly. "He came here while we were gone, didn't he?"

"Well... yes and no. He was on the ivy by the balcony, looking for clues. He had found a piece of cloth that he thought belonged to the kidnapper. But then he... he showed me his gun and told me to keep mum about it."

Basil took me by the shoulders and turned me so I was facing him. "He _threatened _you?"

"I don't know!"

"Oh God Meg!" Basil said more in fury than in shock.

"Calm down! Basil, you're scaring me!"

Basil gripped my shoulders. "You were scared when he threatened you. That's why you were sleeping with a dagger."

"Basil, I don't know if it was a threat. He just showed me his gun and said something like: 'No one else needs to know about this.'"

"If it was not a threat, then what was it?" Basil said, somewhat calmer.

I shook my head, unable to answer. "You're the smart one here. You tell me."

Basil heaved a deep sigh. "Maybe the Yard is going to extremes to try to beat me to the culprit so they can get all the credit."

"They wouldn't do that... would they?"

"There is also the possibility," Basil continued, "that Gillespie doesn't even work for the Yard, but is instead working for the kidnappers, making sure that we're concentrating more time on tracking the Eye of Diom than the kidnappers."

"And I made friends with their agent."

"You caught him in the act of taking evidence. Perhaps we have found our enemy."

I shivered. "Do you really think so?"

"I said perhaps. For all we know, Arlen Gillespie could be trying to help us."

I huffed.

Basil put his arm around me and started to lead me to the study. "Just tell Dawson or I if Gillespie pops up again. For now we must concentrate on the next clue."

"You found it? Where?"

"At Sophia Schintzhofer's grave, of course."

"Where is it now?"

"Dawson has it."

"Shouldn't we wake up Mrs. Butler?"

"Let her get some sleep."

Basil broke away from me as soon as he opened the study door. He seemed very bashful about showing any affection for me even in front of Dawson.

"Are either of you ready to solve this clue?" the doctor asked hopefully. "Because I am baffled."

Basil and I leaned over the piece of paper. It read:

_I sing my song for many things_

_I announce new birth to this world,_

_My voice calls for all to gather_

_To a marriage of a man to a girl,_

_My voice is loud and clear,_

_I sing glory and joy and praise_

_But I also announce the death of a loved one,_

_As well as any holiday._

_For happy times, for sad times_

_For times to celebrate,_

_My tone will never cease_

_As long as there's someone to create it._

_Look no further than home._

There were no numbers to this one. I-I-M-T-M-I-B-A-F-F-M-A-L didn't even make sense. What was Thomas Butler talking about?

* * *

We were at it all night. Basil tried scrambling letters around, walking around on the grounds, even searching the study some more. We knew this riddle was telling us the answer. If only we could see it!

Basil took out his watch and grimaced. He pulled open the curtains of the study, revealing a gray dawn.

"Good morning everyone," he muttered.

Dawson groaned. "What if we can't figure out the next clue in time?"

"We have until ten tonight," the detective replied.

Dawson shook his head. "But Basil, we also have a train ride."

"Maybe we can negotiate with the kidnappers if we can't figure it out," I suggested.

"If Ratigan or someone like Ratigan is behind this, then that will be next to impossible."

Mrs. Butler burst into the room. "Why didn't any of you wake me up?" she demanded, her voice shrill. "Did you find the next clue?"

"Yes," we chorused rather unenthusiastically.

Dawson pushed the riddle towards the agitated woman. She took it and read it.

"What does it all mean?" she asked.

Basil tried to give her a sympathetic look. "I wish we could tell you."

"It's here though, at the house. Who sings? I can't sing. Neither can my husband. My children sing their little songs, but surely he can't mean them. One of the servants? No... 'Look no further than home?'"

She went to a desk and pulled out some blueprints.

Basil and Dawson looked over her shoulder as she began to muse at them.

"Why didn't I think of it before?" Basil exclaimed.

Mrs. Butler seemed bewildered. "Think of what?" she asked.

"May I?" But before she could answer, Basil began to flip through the blueprints. Dawson grabbed a few and looked through them himself. I took one from Basil and looked at it. It was a blueprint of the manor. Would we find what Butler was talking about here?

"Basil!" Dawson called out. He placed a blueprint on top of the others scattered around the desk.

I gasped.

A slow smile spread across Basil's face. "Why didn't we think of it before?" he said, repeating his own words. "Thomas Butler, you are a brilliant man indeed!"

* * *

_(Meg, Leigh, JWJ, RAEB, Emma, Lizz, and Sarah walk down a street in Charleston.)_

Meg: _(points)_ Aw, I want that house!

JWJ: Don't tell me we came all this way to go house shopping. You're not even 18 yet! You can't legally buy a house!

Meg: I know that. That's why I can still fantasize about owning a million dollar house in South Carolina.

Leigh: Hey, there's this cool courtyard on Church Street where pirates used to hide. Do you guys want to see it?

Emma: Sure!

_(They continue walking until they reach a small wooden gate. They slip through and enter a courtyard, where a stone head is spouting out water into a fountain.)_

Sarah: This is so cool!

JWJ: It's so dark here.

RAEB: It's nine at night. What do you expect?

JWJ: Well, what's that dark shadow over there?

Meg: That's a separate entrance to the courtyard.

JWJ: If I didn't know any better, I'd say that there was someone right there.

_(The dark shadow moves.)_

Everyone: AHHHHHH!!!

Emma: Pirates!

_(Lizz shines a flashlight at the shadow, revealing...)_


	8. For Whom the Bell Tolls

Chapter Eight

For Whom the Bell Tolls

* * *

_(... Professor Ratigan.)_

Meg: _(gasps)_

Emma: What are you doing here?

RAEB: Yeah, aren't you supposed to be in Hawaii or something?

Lizz: That was back when Meg was writing "Running."

RAEB: Oh. So what are you doing here?

Ratigan: _(irritated)_ Why should I tell any of you juvenile delinquents?

Meg: Hold on bucko. You're the delinquent!

Ratigan: A group of teenagers shouldn't be in a dark courtyard at night.

Leigh: And a pansy sewer rat like you should be arrested for _being_ in this courtyard!

Ratigan: WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?

Meg: _(quickly)_ Ignore her. She's insane. Insanity runs in my family.

Everyone else: INSANITY RUNS IN YOUR FAMILY?

Leigh: Meg, no one was supposed to know about that!

JWJ: I knew it!

Sarah: That's not possible!

RAEB: Is it?

JWJ: _(exuberant) _Can't you tell?!

Ratigan: _(grins)_ I wouldn't be surprised if insanity did run in your family. That would explain all your atrocious fanfictions about me.

Meg: And Basil!

Ratigan: _(frowns)_ And that amateur detective Basil of Baker Street. _(Mutters)_I don't see why you even waste your time writing about that pip-squeak...

Meg: What did you just say?

Ratigan: _(irritated)_ Don't you have something else better to do than to be here?

Emma: Ah... no. The Market and all the stores are closed, so we can't go shopping.

Ratigan: Then go find something else to do!

RAEB: Fine, fine, sheesh. Don't have a cow.

_(Everyone but Ratigan starts to leave. JWJ turns back.)_

JWJ: Hey James, what do you think about the Republican's presidential campai-

Ratigan: _(furious)_ I SAID OUT! OUT, OUT, OUT!

_(Ratigan shoves JWJ and the girls out the courtyard door and slams it shut.)_

JWJ: How could he do that to me? _(whirls upon Meg)_ This is all your fault!

Meg: What?! _My_ fault? I didn't do anything!

Leigh: Yeah, maybe Ratigan finally realized how annoying you are.

Lizz: He's probably doing something illegal back there.

Meg: _(grinning evilly)_ I have an idea...

_(Later Emma, Leigh, Lizz, and RAEB are sitting in a graveyard.)_

Emma: Congrats to Belphegor and Skye-chan for figuring out the last riddle!

* * *

The four of us bolted out of the study, raced down the stairs, and almost collided with Luther.

"Madam?" he asked in a slightly frightened voice.

"I beg your pardon Luther," Mrs. Butler said in a flushed tone, "But we are really quite busy right now."

"But Madam, you told me that you wanted me to tell you the master's condition as soon as you woke up."

"Oh yes! Is he any better?" she asked eagerly.

Luther shook his head. "Same as yesterday."

"He hasn't woken up yet?"

"No. I'm sorry."

"Oh. Thank you," she said quietly as we headed towards the door.

Once outside she began to run again. We raced to catch up.

Mrs. Butler was the first inside the bell tower.

I had wondered before why the Butler Manor even had a bell tower. But now, as Basil, Dawson, and I followed Mrs. Butler into the tower I did not care. There was a clue somewhere in this building that would lead us to the Eye of Diom.

I cast my eyes at the rope used to ring the bell towards the large bell itself at the top of the tower. Its outline was made visible by the gray sky outside. A flight of steps led to the belfry.

"Where do we start?" Dawson asked.

Basil headed to the stairs. The rest of us silently followed. He stopped when he was level with the bell. He stared thoughtfully at it for a minute.

"Where could the clue be?" Dawson asked. I had been wondering the same thing.

"Mr. Basil?" Mrs. Butler said quietly. "I know where the clue is." Basil nodded for her to continue. "Tom had the bell taken done a year ago to have it repaired."

"It's on the bell?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Then how do we get to it?"

Basil began to take off his Inverness. "Do you have any rope?" he asked Mrs. Butler.

"Basil! You can't go up there!" Dawson exclaimed.

"You'll break your neck!" I chimed in.

"That's why I'm asking for rope," he said, removing his jacket.

"BASIL!"

Mrs. Butler discreetly left Dawson and I to argue with Basil as she got some rope.

"How are you going to find this clue without killing yourself?" I demanded.

"It's simple. I'll tie the rope to my waist, walk across the bell's support beam, tie the rope around the beam and then descend onto the surface of the bell. Then I will scour the surface of the bell for the clue, which should be carved either on top of or inside the bell."

"What if the rope breaks?"

"It won't."

"Basil, this seems to be more foolhardy than wise," Dawson said. "Have Mrs. Butler hire someone to take the bell down."

Basil rolled up his sleeves. "That would attract attention. And doctor, we are currently running out of time. I don't know how many more clues there are in this goose-chase, and we have to have that emerald by ten tonight. This way is the quickest and involves the least amount of people."

Dawson folded his arms. "That doesn't mean you have to go to such a risk."

"This is what I do Dawson. I help others who are in need of my services. Sometimes that involves taking a slight risk."

"_Slight?_" I cried, my voice shrill.

Basil held my face in his hands. "You know me. You know I can do this."

"I know... But it'd be just my luck if you fell and got yourself killed."

Basil smiled. "I promise I won't get myself killed."

That somewhat reassured me. "Please be careful."

Mrs. Butler came back with plenty of rope. "Is there anything else you need, Mr. Basil?"

"A pen and some paper."

* * *

I held my breath as Basil stepped onto the support beam. He held his arms out to his sides as he made his way to the center of the beam, where the bell was tied on.

At one point Basil wobbled. I grabbed Dawson's arm and gripped it to prevent myself from saying anything that might distract the detective. The beam walker regained his balance and continued. He reached the center of the beam a few seconds later.

"Meg, would you mind letting go of my arm?" Dawson asked patiently.

"Sorry," I said softly, releasing my grip. I resorted to twisting a piece of my hair as I watched Basil tie the rope that was supposed to support him around the support beam. When he was done, he tugged at the rope to make sure that it was secure. Then he lowered himself off the beam. He fell rather clumsily onto the top of the bell, causing it to shake back and forth. The bell began to toll its deep, melancholy tone.

I grew nervous. _Could the bell hold his weight? Had he tied the rope on tightly enough?_

Basil was flustered. "Can someone mute that confounded clapper?" he yelled harshly.

Mrs. Butler ran down the stairs to comply with his request. At the bottom of the tower she grabbed the rope used to ring the bell and stabilized the clapper to stop moving. "I'll stay down here," she called up to us.

Basil took out his power lens and began to examine the surface of the bell. He moved slowly around the surface of the bell, holding onto the surface with one hand and the lens in the other.

After several long, agonizing minutes of carefully scouring the surface of the bell, Basil called out, "I've found something!"

"The clue?" Mrs. Butler shouted from the bottom of the tower.

"It has to be! Dawson, take this down!"

Basil began to recite the poem to Dawson.

* * *

A lone mouse held his ear against the door of the tower. He smiled in self-satisfaction. That detective was practically shouting the next clue to the world!

* * *

"I've got it!" Dawson said. "You can come back now."

Basil began to pull himself up to the support beam.

That was when he slipped.

I screamed.

The rope he had tied on luckily caught him halfway towards the ground.

"Basil! Basil, are you all right?" I shrieked, shocked that he was not dead on the ground at that moment.

Basil did not say anything for a moment. Finally he let out a groan.

"If that whiplash didn't do anything to my internal organs I should be fine," he said in a raspy voice.

"WHAT?"

"That was meant to be a joke!" Basil shouted in an annoyed tone. "Now will someone help me down from here?"

Dawson took one uncertain step onto the support beam. Seeing the doctor put himself in danger for his sake, Basil solved the problem by cutting himself from the rope. He fell the rest of the way down.

My heart leaped out of my chest.

"BASIL!" Dawson cried.

Basil landed cat-like on all fours. He straightened himself up and brushed himself off.

I put my hand against my chest in an attempt to slow my racing heart.

Dawson grabbed Basil's deerstalker and Inverness and hurried down the stairs. I followed him.

"Are you all right?" Dawson asked.

"A little sore around the abdomen, but other than that I am perfectly fine."

Dawson unbuttoned Basil's shirt and felt his stomach for any internal injuries. Mrs. Butler and I looked on.

"You're all right," Dawson said, stepping back from Basil.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yes, he's fine."

I stepped up to Basil. He smiled at me. I slapped him in the face.

"How could you do that to me?" I yelled. "I have never been so scared in all my life! I thought you were certainly going to get yourself killed! It was bad enough watching you fall the first time, but to see you cut yourself from the ropes... HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO ME?"

Basil placed his hands on my shoulder. "Shhhh, Meg, calm down..."

I shoved his hands away. "You cut yourself deliberately! Why, did you want me to have a heart attack? I could kill you right now!"

"Are they married?" Mrs. Butler asked Dawson.

He shook his head. "They're dating."

"Ohhhh."

The detective began to button up his shirt again. "Meg, it was just a little fall. I'm fine."

"It would serve you right if you had broken your neck!"

"You're acting like I fell on purpose."

"You practically did!"

Dawson shook his head. "Let's go back to the house and start working on this clue."

He and Mrs. Butler headed back to the main house.

"Right Meg, I fell on purpose just to make you angry."

"I'm not saying that!"

"Then what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that you-" my words got stuck in my throat as Basil gave me a kiss.

He smiled mischievously. "You were saying?"

Dawson nodded to Mrs. Butler. "They'll be with us in a minute."

* * *

_(Meg, Sarah, and JWJ crouch on a balcony by the second entrance to the courtyard, looking down at Ratigan.)_

Sarah: He's been sitting in that same position for twenty minutes!

JWJ: I never knew someone could sit still for so long.

Meg: Maybe he's dead.

Sarah: What's he doing here? Is he meeting someone?

_(RAEB's voice crackles into a walkie-talkie.)_

RAEB: Window Pigeon, this is Ghost-In-Graveyard, over.

Sarah: _(groasn)_ Who put RAEB in charge of that thing?

Meg: _(grabs walkie-talkie)_ What do you want? Tell me you actually saw something this time.

RAEB: Is this Window Pigeon? Over.

Meg: Who cares?

RAEB: Just humor me for once!

Meg: _(sighs)_ Yes, this is Window Pigeon. _(Mutters)_ And this is ludicrous.

RAEB: How's everything look out there? Over.

Meg: Nothing's happened since that LAST time you checked in, which was about three minutes ago!

RAEB: Just checking, over.

JWJ: _(grabs walkie-talkie)_ I thought we agreed not to contact each other unless we saw something! So don't call back unless you see something! And if you can't do that, then put Lizz or Emma or Leigh in charge of that thing!

RAEB: Fine! Don't have fun with this!

JWJ: Haha.

_(Ratigan looks up. Meg, Sarah, and JWJ crouch lower. Ratigan shrugs and continues to stare at the spouting fountain.)_

Sarah: Guess he's not dead.

_(Another crackle from the walkie-talkie is heard.)_

Lizz: Meg! Meg! You won't believe who just walked into the Church Street entrance!

Meg: Who?

_(White noise drones from the device.)_

Meg: Lizz? Lizz!

Sarah: Meg, look! It's...


	9. Dead End?

Chapter Nine

Dead End?

* * *

Sarah: _(gasp)_ It's Dr. Sno!

Meg: Our eighth grade science teacher? The guy who hates my guts because I told him that he made a mistake checking one of my tests?

_(Dr. Sno approaches Ratigan)_

JWJ: Oh crap...

* * *

_**At Number Fourteen, Gloucester Court**_

_**There lies what you seek**_

_**Beneath an emperor**_

_**And within another of the same**_

_**Safe and concealed**_

_**Here in the heart of London**_

_Be cautious of where you tread 16_

_May you not go in haste, 1_

_I do not give a jumble of words 20_

_Or put this clue to waste 2_

_Use your brain, and what you've learned 8_

_On this crazy chase, 10_

_To find your longed for prize 10_

_And end this maddening race. 11_

_Use your native tongue, madame 20_

_The letters you learned from youth,_

_They will do better in solving this riddle_

_Than old Hebrew could do._

Basil pressed his fingertips together. "Interesting wording. Wouldn't you say so doctor?"

"Very extraordinary," Dawson agreed.

Following true to the last line of the first part of the clue, we were on a train headed to London.

Basil took out a pencil and paper and pointed to the paper that Dawson had copied the bell's clue onto.

"You copied it almost exactly as it was on the bell. Good work," Basil muttered. "All right, let's get down to solving the clue. We've seen the number sequence before. That will probably give us the location of Number Fourteen Gloucester Court."

Mrs. Butler looked as baffled as I felt. She cleared her throat. "Mr. Basil, it says right there, 'Number Fourteen, Gloucester Court. I know where Gloucester Court is."

"So do I," I said. "It connects to Rosebud Lane."

"No," Mrs. Butler said. "It's at the end of Second Street in Soho. Rosebud Lane is by St. Mary's Hospital in the East End."

"No, I know this specifically. I had a friend who lived there," I said shortly.

"But I have friends who live in Gloucester Court, and it's in Soho."

"That can't be right. I remember the sign for Gloucester Court in the East End. It sticks out in my memory."

"Mr. Basil, certainly my husband put the Eye of Diom in a better place than near Rosebud Lane. It has to be in Soho. Maybe he hid it with our friends. I wouldn't be surprised."

Basil tapped his fingers lightly against the window of the train. "This is why your husband was so brilliant in hiding these clues, Mrs. Butler," he said, smiling.

"So I am right?"

"No, you're most likely wrong."

"Most likely?" she questioned at the same time I said, "So I am right?"

"No, you're probably as far off as Mrs. Butler."

"But Mr. Basil, I know for a fact that Gloucester Court is in Soho!" Mrs. Butler said impatiently.

"But I know it's by Rosebud Lane," I said.

"And I don't doubt that both of you know a different Gloucester Court."

"What?" we asked in unison.

Dawson cleared his throat. "Sometimes street names are used more than once," he stated.

"What Dr. Dawson is trying to say," Basil explained, "is that there is more than one Gloucester Court in London."

"More than one?" I said, incredulous. "Well, then how many are there?"

"There are over fifty, if my memory serves me correctly."

"More than fifty?" Mrs. Butler mouthed. "Fifty?"

"Impossible! I've lived in London for almost ten years, and I never noticed any more than one Gloucester Court. Surely you must be joking!" I exclaimed.

"You see but you do not take the time to remember," Basil said matter-of-factly.

"How are we supposed to find Number Fourteen in fifty Gloucester Courts?" Mrs. Butler asked in a high-pitched voice.

Basil tapped the paper with the clue written on it. "This."

She bit her lower lip, as if trying to hold in an emotion.

"You remember the number sequence from the clue about Sophia Schintzhofer?" Basil asked gently. She nodded. "This is the same idea. We have to count out the sixteenth letter from the beginning for the first letter, one for the second one, twenty for the third, and so on. See, your husband was even kind enough to place the number next to the line it corresponds with."

"He didn't do that the first time," I said.

"Maybe he figured that we would get the number sequence mixed up with the first part of the clue."

"What is the first part for, then?"

"Butler probably meant for the second part to name some building on one of the many Gloucester Courts so we could find that building more easily. The first part probably tells us where in the building we will find the clue. Or, as this riddle suggests... the Eye of Diom."

Everyone watched with baited breath as Basil began to count out letters and write the answer on the spare piece of paper. No one could see what he was writing.

After the last letter had been copied down, Basil looked puzzled. He rechecked his counting. Finally he handed the paper to Mrs. Butler.

"Well, this is what I got."

I leaned over as Mrs. Butler scrutinized the paper. All I saw was R-M-W-R-B-Z-R-M-M.

"Is it scrambled?" she asked, but just as quickly corrected herself. "No, it wouldn't be, would it? All consonants and no vowels."

"Are these initials for something, like some secret society?" Dawson asked, taking the paper from Mrs. Butler to examine himself.

"Could be..." Basil said slowly. He held out his hand for the paper, which Dawson gave to him after quickly scanning it. The detective began to count some more letters.

"Secret society? No secret society would have that long of a title, would they?" I wondered aloud. "Would they Basil?"

"Perhaps the numbering was meant to go the opposite way," Dawson suggested. "Maybe we were supposed to start from the end of the line and move on to the left, instead of starting at the beginning of the line and moving to the right."

"That's what I had thought," said Basil, thrusting the results of his second counting into Dawson's hands.

"S-E-O-T-E-C-E-D-O?" the doctor read.

"That's a scrambled word!" Mrs. Butler said excitedly.

"That's not what Thomas Butler meant for us to find," Basil said.

"But the first group of letters didn't mean a thing," I said. "This group at least has vowels. This must be some word or name that we need!"

"Do you see the line, 'And end this maddening race?'" he asked, handing me the clue.

"Yes."

"Find the eleventh letter, going from right to left."

I counted. "It's D."

"And what about the tenth letter? Count that out for me."

I felt slightly irritated at his impatient tone of voice, but I did as he requested. "D again. So?"

"Why did Butler write number eleven, when he could just as easily written number ten?"

"I don't know. Maybe he liked the number eleven."

"He would have put number ten there instead of eleven."

"How do you know that?"

"It's simpler."

"Basil, there's no rule stating that when you have a choice between ten or eleven, go with ten."

He was getting just as impatient, but he was trying his best to hide it. "It's more logical that way."

I stared into his eyes, hoping to understand what he was thinking. He turned red and tried to avoid my gaze.

I sank into my seat, exhausted from lack of sleep and continually butting heads with Basil. Why was he not looking at me? I had thought we were over the silly childish stage of being bashful around each other. But it felt like the more intimate we got with each other, the more argumentative and secretive we became.

I remembered that we were on a case and quickly running out of time. I looked at the paper in my hands and studied the clue again. Who could make sense out of this one?

* * *

Little did we know that another mouse in another compartment was wondering the same thing.

He had copied the riddle down too, but could not get an iota of sense out of it. He glanced at the mouse sitting across from him. He had seen him somewhere recently...

That was it! It was that butler from the Manor. But what was he doing here? Why was he not with his mistress?

The mouse pulled his hat lower over his eyes. He did not want Luther to recognize him.

* * *

Meg: We interrupt the insane author's notes for this important announcement: Sorry for the delay in uploading this chapter. I did not have the riddle written when I wrote Chapter Eight because I wanted to put it in Chapter Nine, but every time I sat down to write Chapter Nine my heart wasn't into it. Long story. And if anyone is brilliant enough to figure out the riddle (it is solvable, but I definitely wouldn't be able to solve it if I had not written it) then you should be a code breaker for the Army or something.


	10. Last Hope

Chapter Ten

Last Hope

* * *

Dr. Sno: You wanted to see me?

Ratigan: Yes. I need you to take care of a certain... someone for me.

Dr. Sno: Take care?

Ratigan: Yes. _(Takes out a pocketbook and produces a photograph)_ I believe you know this girl?

Dr. Sno: Ah, the Queen of the World.

Meg: _(groans)_ He still remembers that nickname?

Ratigan: She's been slandering my name. I need a password onto her account on that fanfiction website. Get that out of her. Then get rid of her.

Dr. Sno: _(laughs evilly)_

Meg: They're plotting to_ kill _me?

* * *

Mrs. Judson was pleased to have us back at Baker Street, but when she found out we were still working on the case she left us alone in the study.

"'Native tongue?'" Mrs. Butler repeated a thought she had had on the train. "He wants me to use my native tongue. What does he mean? I'm British by birth; English is my primary language. I speak French and some German, but English is all I've ever spoken with Tom. Does R-M-W-R-B-Z-R-M-M mean anything in some other language?"

"Seems like a long shot," Dawson said quietly.

I glanced at the clock. It was five o'clock.

Basil followed my glance. "Worrying about the time isn't going to help us solve this any faster."

I picked up my piece of paper with the clue on it. Dawson had made copies of the clue for each of us so we would not have to pass around the same sheet of paper.

_**At Number Fourteen, Gloucester Court**_

_**There lies what you seek**_

_**Beneath an emperor**_

_**And within another of the same**_

_**Safe and concealed**_

_**Here in the heart of London**_

_Be cautious of where you tread 16_

_May you not go in haste, 1_

_I do not give a jumble of words 20_

_Or put this clue to waste 2_

_Use your brain, and what you've learned 8_

_On this crazy chase, 10_

_To find your longed for prize 10_

_And end this maddening race. 11_

_Use your native tongue, madame 20_

_The letters you learned from youth,_

_They will do better in solving this riddle_

_Than old Hebrew could do._

I tried mixing up the S-E-O-T-E-C-E-D-O sequence. _SECT DO CEOE?_ That made no sense. I looked at Basil's paper. He had words written all over it. Dawson's paper was the same.

Mrs. Butler was sketching something.

"Basil, are you sure you read everything that was on the bell?" Dawson ventured to ask.

Basil glared at him. Dawson had questioned him about the accuracy of what he had read on the bell ever since we first read the riddle on the train.

"Of course I am sure!" he snapped.

I looked at my blank paper in panic. _Something's here that we just keep missing...

* * *

____

The clock chimed half-past eight. Basil paced the room, pipe in hand, for the sixth time that evening. Dawson bit on the tip of his pencil in agitation. Mrs. Butler had torn off a corner of her paper and managed to twist it into a long, thin strip. I kept glancing from the words, now a blur in my fatigue, to the clock on the wall.

"We're never going to get it!" Mrs. Butler moaned. "My poor babies! What are we going to do?"

Dawson and Basil exchanged uneasy glances, but did not answer.

Mrs. Butler's words forced me to blink the sleep out of my eyes and pore over the words once more. Four lines particularly bothered me:

'_I do not give a jumble of words _

_Or put this clue to waste _

_Use your brain, and what you've learned _

_On this crazy chase'._

We had learned the number sequence. But Butler had predicted that we'd fine a jumble of words. I felt that the number sequence was not the only thing he had wanted us to find.

I reread the first part of the clue:

_**At Number Fourteen, Gloucester Court**_

_**There lies what you seek**_

_**Beneath an emperor**_

_**And within another of the same**_

_**Safe and concealed**_

_**Here in the heart of London.**_

Those lines did not rhyme. It was almost like the clue about Le Jardin, where the first letter of each line spelled out J-A-R-D-I-N.

_Use your brain, and what you've learned _

_On this crazy chase._

Could this first part of the clue be similar to the Le Jardin clue?

I wrote out the first letter of each line: A-T-B-A-S-H.

_Atbash?_

I scrambled up the words. BAT ASH? TAB HAS? I shook my head; nonsense words.

I took first letter of each line out of the second part of the riddle: B-M-I-O-U-O-T-A-U-T-T-T.

I was just starting to fit those words together when Basil snatched up my paper.

"What's this?" he asked, pointing to A-T-B-A-S-H. "How did you get that?"

Dawson and Mrs. Butler leaned forward expectantly at Basil's words, as if I was about to give away the meaning of life. I suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

"Well..." I began," the first part of the riddle did not rhyme. You remember the clue about Le Jardin?" Basil nodded. "I thought that the clues were similar because of that one phrase..." I looked at my copy of the clue. "'_Use your brain, and what you've learned / On this crazy chase.'_ I don't know, I thought I would get a real word..."

"Meg, you're brilliant!" Basil exclaimed.

"Huh?" I had not expected that.

He shoved the paper into my face. "Atbash! The Atbash Cipher! Thomas Butler wants us to use the Atbash Cipher! We've found it!"

"Hold on a minute. What are you talking about?" I asked.

"Atbash Cipher?" Mrs. Butler repeated quietly.

To my surprised, Dawson broke into a silly grin. "It's a substitution code where the first letter of the Hebrew alphabet is substituted by the last letter, the second letter by the next to last letter, and so on."

Mrs. Butler suddenly jumped up. "That's it!" She took her paper and read the lines:

"'_Use your native tongue, madame_

_The letters you learned from youth,_

_They will do better in solving this riddle_

_Than old Hebrew could do.'_

Tom doesn't want us to use the Hebrew alphabet. He wants us to use the English alphabet!"

"Brilliant!" Basil exclaimed once more.

Dawson fell to work writing the alphabet out for us.

A B C D E F G H I J K L M

Z Y X W V U T S R Q P O N

"What's the letter sequence we got from the number sequence?" Dawson asked.

"R-M-W-R-B-Z-R-M-M," I read, taking Basil's piece of paper. Dawson wrote it out:

RMWRBZRMM

Underneath he wrote:

INDIYAINN

"Indiyainn?" he said to himself.

"Indiyainn... indi-yainn... indiya-inn... Indiya Inn!" Basil burst. "The Indiya Inn! Butler probably hid the emerald in room Number Fourteen, '_By an emperor / _

_And within another of the same'._ We'll just ask any cab driver in the city to take us there."

"Time!" Mrs. Butler moaned, pointing to the clock. It was a quarter to ten. "There is no possible way we can get to the Indiya Inn and back to London Bridge again!"

Basil grabbed his Inverness and deerstalker. "Come with me, Mrs. Butler. We don't have the Eye of Diom, but we certainly do have directions. Perhaps we can bargain with the kidnappers."

Dawson and I grabbed our coats but Basil stopped us. "Stay here. The note asked for me and me only. It wouldn't be wise to bring anyone else."

"But you're taking Mrs. Butler!" I protested.

"They may be more willing to bargain if she's there."

"Why don't we go get the Eye while you stall the kidnappers?" Dawson suggested.

Basil shook his head. "I don't think that would be wise either."

"We must hurry!" Mrs. Butler urged.

"Please stay here," Basil asked, his eyes imploring us to heed his advice.

Dawson and I glanced at each other, and then nodded.

Basil had barely left when we heard Mrs. Judson shout from the kitchen. We ran into the next room, where we found her getting up from the floor.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Some people are so rude!" the good landlady huffed, brushing herself off. "A poor man came begging to the back door for something to eat, so I let him in and gave him some dinner. I left him alone for a few minutes, but when I came back he rudely pushed me to the ground and ran out the back door! After all I had done for him too!"

Dawson rushed to the back door, but stopped himself, nearly colliding into a male figure who suddenly appeared in the doorway.

I blinked hard, hardly believing my eyes. "Mr. Gillespie?"

* * *

Meg: My apologies. I had never heard of the Atbash Cipher until I read _The Da Vinci Code_. Dawson's explanation and his use of the fold-over are taken from that book. I swear I am not trying to copy!


	11. Misunderstandings

Chapter Eleven

Misunderstandings

* * *

_(Meg walks down the school hallway with Emma, Lizz and RAEB.)_

RAEB: This is a BAD idea. Dr. Sno works up at the high school now. You shouldn't have come to school today. You could run into him at any moment!

Meg: Well, when I told my parents that I couldn't go to school because my former science teacher was hired to kill me, they rolled their eyes and told me to stop being so dramatic. They told me school isn't THAT bad. _(sighs)_

Emma: At least you don't have a class with him.

Lizz: But I do... _(gulps)_ I should have never taken principles of technology. What if he kidnaps me to use me as bait?!

Meg: Eh...

_(Leigh runs up.)_

Leigh: Meg, I just saw Dr. Sno in the hallway. He yelled at me to bring you to him so he can yell at you over your skirt. He says it's too short and breaking the dress code.

Meg: He also yelled at me in eighth grade for wearing a tank top to school. A tank top for crying out loud!

Lizz: I don't think that's the point. I think he just wants an excuse to corner you and... erm... kill you.

Emma: Here he comes!

Meg: I gotta hide!

RAEB: _(opens locker door)_ Quick, in here!

_(Meg jumps inside. RAEB, Leigh, Lizz and Emma lean against door. Dr. Sno walks past.)_

Dr. Sno: _(glares)_ WHY AREN'T ANY OF YOU IN CLASS?! YOU'RE LATE! DETENTION FOR ALL OF YOU!

Leigh: The bell hasn't even rung yet.

Dr. Sno: Where's your sister?

Leigh: No idea.

Dr. Sno: _(still glares)_ You know what I would like? I would like to wire this floor with 10,000 volts of electricity. You know why?

Girls: No...

Dr. Sno: So that when kids like you are late, and that late bell rings- ZAP! _(laughs evilly to himself as he walks away.)_

_(Everyone else runs off to their classes.)_

Meg: (_still inside locker)_ Did he go away? Okay guys, you can let me out now. Guys? GUYS! Grrrr... why didn't Ratigan kill me when we bumped into him in Charleston?

_(Miles away, Ratigan sits at a TV monitor watching Meg's torment.)_

Ratigan: Because it's more fun this way, heeheehee!

* * *

Arlen Gillespie stepped into the doorway. "Good evening Megana," he said brightly.

His voice sounded friendly enough, but the memory of his threat the night before put me on my guard. I grabbed one of Mrs. Judson's kitchen knives and pointed it at Arlen. "All right, what's going on?"

Dawson rummaged around for his pistol. "Yes, why did you threaten Meg last night?"

I shot Dawson a glance. "Basil told you about that?"

"Well... yes... I mean, he..." Dawson trailed off as he finally found his gun and pointed it at the Irish mouse.

My stomach sank. Arlen had threatened me with a gun and told me not to tell any one, and here Dawson goes and blurts it out. And why did Basil tell him?

Arlen held up his hands. "What's with all the weapondry?"

Dawson stepped up to Arlen, pointing his pistol in the poor man's face. "What's with all this following us around? Eh, Gillespie?"

I had never seen Dawson act like this before, but I liked it.

"Following around? I was just wondering where Mrs. Butler had headed without telling the Yard."

"And you knew she'd be here?"

"Well, she left with Mr. Basil. Of course she'd have to be here!"

Dawson gave me a helpless look. I shrugged. His reasoning made sense; as a member of the Yard he'd have to keep track of someone so embroiled in the assault of her husband and kidnapping of her two children. She may even be a suspect in the crime.

A thought suddenly occurred to me. "Dawson! Mrs. Butler, maybe she had her children kidnapped!"

"WHAT?" Arlen and Dawson chorused.

"And she's with Basil! What if she's leading him into a trap?"

"What's your reasoning behind all this?" Dawson asked.

"I... well, I don't know. Do you have any clues, Mr. Gillespie?"

Arlen shook his head. "Nothing really. But it did seem a bit suspicious when she left so suddenly today."

I realized we were off-track from the original problem. "Mr. Gillespie, why are you following us around?"

"Yes, why?" Dawson demanded. "Why the threats? And suddenly appearing at several sites where we were searching for clues? I don't believe that you even work for the Yard."

"Let me explain!" Arlen exclaimed. "Please, just put that thing (motioning to the gun) down!"

"No!" Dawson and I said in unison.

"Fine. I'll explain. I do work for the Yard, but Mr. Basil wouldn't remember me because I just got this position last week. This is my first case in London, but I assure you it isn't my first with an official force. I first started with the New York Police Department. I then applied for a job at Mouseland Yard because I wanted to be closer to home."

"Prove it!" I said.

"I can't, unless you want to go to Mouseland Yard and check with Inspector Gordon. He's my superior."

Dawson sighed. "I know Inspector Gordon. But anyone could say they work under him."

"You have a good point, doctor. I am tryin' to prove my innocence, but I really don't know how."

"Answer me this: Why were you following us around?"

Arlen sighed. "I didn't want to have to tell you any of this, but I suppose it's best if we all start workin' together. Mouseland Yard has been humiliated many times in the past because of Basil of Baker Street. My assignment was to find out what you all were lookin' for, and whether you were on the trail of the Eye of Diom or the children. Then I was supposed to report all my information back to my superiors."

"So that's why you were tying to get friendly with me!" I said angrily.

"Please don't take it personally, Megana. I was only doin' my job."

"So threatening women with a gun is part of this job description?"

Arlen blushed. "I was afraid that Basil would catch on to what I was up to. That would have ruined the whole assignment. It's my first week; I don't want to lose this job because I failed to carry out my first assignment."

"How much did you find out?" Dawson asked.

Arlen reached inside his pocket. Dawson shoved the pistol closer to his face. "Relax. It's only a piece of paper."

"Meg can get it," Dawson said in a low voice.

I stepped forward and reached into Arlen's pocket. I pulled out a scrap of paper.

"Read it," Arlen said.

I opened it up. "_**At Number Fourteen, Gloucester Court...**_" I quickly scanned the paper. "It's the last clue!"

"You were listening to us in the bell tower?" Dawson asked Gillespie.

"Yes. I had already figured out that you were after the Eye of Diom. The Yard didn't want you all to have it, Dr. Dawson. It's not yours, so you have no right to it."

"But it was given to Thomas Butler! He would definitely use it to save his own children."

"It's a stolen emerald."

I remembered something that had been said on the train ride to Sussex. "Basil said that the Eye was 'supposedly stolen.' That's been bothering me this whole time. How come no one knows if it was stolen or not?"

Arlen smiled a bit. "That's a story."

"Well, would you please explain it to us?"

"All right lass. Do you know anything about the Eye of Diom?"

"It comes from India."

"Right. Two partners, Hunter, an Englishman, and Truble, an American, ran the mines. They were good partners together until Truble began his own backhanded dealings.

"The emerald in question was found about eight years ago. Now, it used to be larger, but in order for mice workers to get it out of the mines it had to be cut into smaller pieces. The 'Eye' is the largest piece of the bunch.

"Hunter and Truble were proud of this jewel. They showcased it in their office during the day, and then one of them would take it home at night for safekeeping. But as the story goes, one day Truble didn't bring the emerald back. Hunter confronted him about it, there was a brawl, and Truble ended up with a hole in his head. Hunter took off, and no one's seen him or the emerald since."

Mrs. Judson put her hand to her mouth. "How horrible!"

"That's why no one knows if the emerald was stolen or not. They don't know if Truble hid it somewhere from Hunter, if Hunter ran off with it, or someone else took it. It would rightfully be Hunter's now that Truble's dead, except if Hunter ever surfaces then he can't claim it. He'd be arrested."

Dawson lowered his pistol. "Gillespie, there are two children who are going to die if we don't help them. Stolen or not stolen, we must do something with that emerald!"

"But the law-"

"Who cares about the law?" I cut in. "This isn't the law we're talking about. These are two innocent lives!"

Arlen looked embarrassed. "Well, I couldn't solve that bloody riddle anyway!"

"We did," Dawson said.

"Oh, is that what you were doing in there?" Mrs. Judson said. "Solving a riddle?"

"Yes."

"I could hear you all talking about some sort of Atbash code."

"You could _hear_ us?" Dawson asked her slowly.

"Yes. The walls aren't that thick Dr. Dawson."

"How much did you hear?"

"Not that much."

"And there was a fellow in here, a poor beggar, sitting in the kitchen, who could hear this all too?"

"Well, I suppose he could have if he had cared to listen. He didn't talk to me any after I let him in."

"Oh no..." Dawson groaned.

I was afraid I understood what he meant. "Don't tell me you think there's someone else after the Eye of Diom."

"Meg, I think we're going to have to break Basil's request for us to stay here."

"What? You know where the Eye is?" Arlen asked.

"Yes we do," Dawson said as we headed for the front door. "And someone else is after it. He ran out the back door just before you appeared."

"I saw that bloke," Arlen said. "Practically shoved me over, he did."

"You saw him? What did he look like?"

"Didn't get a clear look at him."

"Do you know where the Indiya Inn is? On Gloucester Court?" I asked.

"As a matter of fact, I do."

"Good. You're coming with us."

* * *

Basil and Mrs. Butler did not have long to wait for the kidnappers. As it was early March, the unpredictable weather prevented few people from wandering the streets after dusk.

London Bridge was completely deserted.

Mrs. Butler was the first to spot the shadows moving towards them from the other side of the bridge. Basil observed that there were at least a dozen of them. He stepped forward to meet them.

* * *

_(RAEB opens her locker door. Meg falls out.)_

RAEB: AHHH!

Meg: Ow!

RAEB: You scared me!

Meg: And you left me locked in your locker for two periods! Great friends you guys are!

RAEB: Eh... sorry. Dr. Sno threatened us.

Meg: He did not! He told us that same wish to wire the carpet with 10,000 volts of electricity when I had him three years ago. And now because of you I missed World Cultures seminar and English, the only two classes of the day that I actually like!

_(Dr. Sno appears.)_

Dr. Sno: Breaking the dress code _and_ cutting two classes? Follow me.

Meg: No. I know what you're up to.

Dr. Sno: YOU ARE COMING WITH ME!


	12. The Games Are Afoot!

Chapter Twelve

The Game (Or is it Games?) Are Afoot!

* * *

_(Meg is strapped to a school desk.)_

Dr. Sno: What is your password to that fanfiction website?

Meg: You're taking this job a bit too seriously. Really, what are you getting out of all of this?

Dr. Sno: The satisfaction of torturing a student! Tell me the password!

Meg: Let me think... no.

Dr. Sno: Fine. _(Pulls over a television)_ Maybe this will break you.

_(Barney and Friends starts to play.)_

TV: I love you, you love me...

Meg: ARGH! I HATE BARNEY!

Dr. Sno: Mwhahahahahaha!

* * *

The kidnappers stopped about a foot away from Basil. One figure wrapped in a dark cloak took two steps from the others.

"Do you have the Eye?" this cloaked form asked.

"Do you have the children?" Basil countered.

The form turned to the group behind him. "Get them," he ordered.

The group scuffled and moved around. Finally two of the mice brought a young girl and boy to the front of the group.

"Mummy!" the little boy cried when he saw Mrs. Butler.

"Michael! Rose!" Mrs. Butler shrieked. She ran forward.

"No!" Basil grabbed her arms and held her back.

"My babies! My poor darlings! Please, let me go to them!"

"Wait just a little bit longer," Basil whispered kindly to her. In reality he was furious with her. An unemotional approach would have been so much better considering that they were now going to have to bargain for these children's lives.

"Where's the Eye?" the leader of the group asked.

Basil cleared his throat. "You knew that we were on the trail of the Eye of Diom. You knew that we had to solve riddles to find out the location of the Eye."

"Yes, yes, I knew all that!"

"We were on the last clue, but we only solved it about half an hour ago."

The leader hesitated. "So you don't have the Eye?" he said in a low voice.

"No. But we-"

"Kill them," the leader barked to his men.

"No! No, you can't do that!" Mrs. Butler screamed, lunging for her children.

Basil ran forward to stop her once again. "WAIT! STOP!"

"We gave you enough time!" the leader snarled.

Mrs. Butler grasped Michael's arm, but was shoved aside by one of the mice. Basil ran to the side of the bridge. "We don't have the Eye, but we have the location of the Eye!" He pulled out a piece of paper. All of the mice froze. "It's all in here, the location of the Eye of Diom. Release the children, and I will give the location to you. But if you kill the children, then I will destroy this information, Mr. Hunter."

The leader threw off his hood, revealing a black mouse in his mid-thirties wearing thick glasses.

"Garret Hunter?" Mrs. Butler breathed. "You attacked my husband and kidnapped my children?"

Hunter grinned. "Nice to see you too Danielle. Detective," he continued, "you and Danielle here can take us to this location. Only when I have that emerald in my own hands will I let the little brats go."

* * *

A word of advice for using Toby: make sure Basil is with you. Even though Dawson and I would have picked another form of transportation any day of the week, he was the quickest way in London to get from place to place. Unfortunately, Dawson and I still did not have a good handle on controlling the basset hound despite having used him several times before on our own.

The first problem was that Arlen was terrified of dogs. It took us five minutes to convince him that Toby would be the best choice of travel. When we had that cleared up, we had to worry about the Master being still awake; but it appeared that he, too, was on a case.

Then there was Toby himself. Toby does not trust strangers unless Basil tells him to trust them.

Toby started to growl at Arlen as soon as we climbed through the mousehole.

"Big dog..." Arlen squeaked. "Bloody big dog!" He turned to go back through the hole.

"Oh no you don't," I said, grabbing his arm.

Dawson went warily up to the hound. "Toby... ah, yes... good dog... see, we have a friend... a _friend_..." Dawson articulated when Toby began to growl again. "Basil's friend, yes Toby... be a good boy... sit... sit... sit..."

Toby walked up to Arlen and began to sniff him. The wind nearly knocked us over.

"Toby, sit!" I commanded.

He ignored me too.

"Oh, we're wasting time!" I exclaimed.

Arlen was practically hyperventilating, gripping my arm in fear.

"Dog... big dog..."

I got an idea. "Toby, Basil's in trouble!"

Toby began to growl again, but directed his attention to some imagined villain rather than Arlen.

Dawson gave a sigh of relief. "Yes Toby, yes... eh, let's go!"

* * *

After a couple of wrong turns because it was hard to steer Toby in the right direction, we finally reached the Indiya Inn at Number Twenty-Eight Gloucester Court. Dawson, after much frustration, finally managed to get Toby to in an alleyway across the street.

"I thought it was Number Fourteen," Arlen said unhappily, looking at the faded number 28 over the door.

"It's probably room Number Fourteen," Dawson tried to explain.

Dawson and I headed for the door when Arlen stopped us. "Wait! We have to do this right!"

"Pardon?"

"We can't just barge into the place. That'd draw suspicion."

"But someone else could already be in there, stealing our emerald!" Dawson said. "We have no time to lose!"

"Or maybe, if we go barging in there, we'll prompt this person t'act more quickly or even with violence!"

I wrung my hands nervously. "So what should we do?"

"Pretend we're looking for a room. We'll try to request Number Fourteen."

"Oh, we don't have time for this!" Dawson said, shoving Gillespie aside. "This person will probably recognize us anyway!" He flung the green doors open and went inside; Arlen and I following close behind.

The Indiya Inn was dimly lit by a few smoke-covered lanterns, which cast dark shadows off the mahogany walls. The carpet was dark green, as was the ceiling. The place looked respectable, but dark and depressing.

There was no one at the front desk. I looked at the cubbyholes behind the counter for room Number Fourteen's location. "There's the key!" I said excitedly.

I climbed over the desk to get it.

"Someone's coming!" Arlen hissed.

I grabbed the key from its cubby hole and tossed it to Dawson. Then I threw myself under the desk.

The innkeeper, a nervous-looking man with a very curly mustache, came down the stairs. He peered at the two mice at the desk.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"We want a room," Arlen said.

"One room?" the innkeeper said as he went around the desk.

"Yes."

The innkeeper pushed a book towards them. "Sign in."

Dawson quickly wrote down the name _Frederick Jones._ Arlen put down_ Leo Tolstoy._

Dawson shot Gillespie a look of bewilderment.

"What?" he asked.

Dawson looked at the bookshelf above the innkeeper's head. While that personage checked the names Dawson pointed out a copy of _War and Peace_ to Arlen_._

"Whoops," he muttered, reading the name of the author. "I knew I had heard that name somewhere before."

"I beg your pardon?" the innkeeper said.

"Nothing," Gillespie said quickly.

"All right, here's the key to room Number Sixteen," the innkeeper said, taking a key from the cubby hole. He paused, studying the cubby hole next to it.

Dawson noticed he was looking at the hole for room Number Fourteen.

"Where's the spare?" the innkeeper muttered to himself. He looked down at the ground to see if it had fallen off the shelf.

"Ah... can you show us where Number Sixteen is?" Dawson asked, hoping to distract the innkeeper from searching for the key and accidentally finding Meg.

The innkeeper came out from behind the desk. "Where are your bags?"

"We haven't got any," Arlen sighed. "Some bloke stole them."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Well, the room is just up the stairs and to the right," the innkeeper said, apparently seeing that there was no reason to bother going up there if he did not have to carry any bags.

Dawson looked helplessly at Arlen. The Yardie shook his head. "Too suspicious. We'll have to leave her where she is."

Dawson was not ready to give up. He deliberately knocked over a table before heading up the stairs.

* * *

The innkeeper watched in bewilderment as the chubby fellow knocked over a table and did not even bother to straighten it up again. "Some people," he muttered as he walked around the counter to set it back in place.

I scrambled out from my hiding place, but just as I stood up a young couple entered the inn. I ducked back behind the desk as the innkeeper came back to the counter saying, "May I help you?"

* * *

"I guess we are going to have to leave her there," Dawson said after witnessing the scene.

"Dawson, there were two keys for each unoccupied room. There was only one key for Number Fourteen. Our man is probably already in there," Arlen warned.

"Are you armed?"

"Always."

"Good. Besides, he has to understand the lines of the poem that went, _'Beneath an emperor, / And within another of the same'_ before he can find the Eye of Diom."

* * *

Toby saw Basil go into the building the fat mouse, the lady mouse, and the scared mouse went into with a group of mice. He wanted to whine to let Basil know that he was here, but he remembered being commanded to 'Stay here and be quiet.' Toby pawed at the ground, upset that he could not go to the detective.

* * *

I inwardly groaned when I heard another group of people entering the inn. I was getting cramped under this desk, and the fear of being discovered did not make the time pass pleasantly.

I wondered how Dawson and Arlen were doing.

* * *

"We're going to have to barge in on the fellow," Dawson whispered.

"Bad idea," Arlen muttered.

"Got any better ones?"

"No. All right, you cover me."

"No, you cover me. I have the key."

Dawson produced the key. He unlocked the door to Number Fourteen and swung it open.

The culprit held a bust of Julius Caesar in his hands taken from a mantle, his back to the mice. Above the mantle was a portrait of Napoleon Bonaparte.

"Stop!" Dawson commanded.

The culprit turned around.

"You?" Arlen gasped.

* * *

Emma: Meg wants to get this up before her long week begins. Lots of cross-country practices and races and tests. Sorry for the short chapter and the cliffhanger. If she continues with the story without a chapter break, then you might end up getting one really long chapter.

Leigh: In reality, my sister is just being a lazy waste of life and doesn't want to write the next chapter.

Lizz: That's not true!

RAEB: Yeah, she was kidnapped by Sno.

Emma: Whatever! Ok, Meg's really busy in September, so next chapter update is uncertain right now! The good news is that she just got her school laptop and can write her stories from there if she ever finds the time to do so.


	13. Ultimate Cost

Chapter Thirteen

Ultimate Cost

* * *

Meg: Yes, it's been over a month since I last updated. I'm sorry; September was just the worse month ever. I have an injury from running and no one believed me for almost two weeks (not even my own father, who's a physical therapist!) Then my shins swelled up so much that there was a bruise, and my parents and my head coach _finally_ believed me. So I've been doing mainly the school thing and lifting weights and going on long bike rides and going to physical therapy and getting my shins Saran Wrapped (yes, I said Saran Wrapped; my father used Saran Wrap on my shins) and taped up. And I still can't run a mile without my leg hurting like heck. Sheesh, how did I go from being one of the top Varsity runners to this?

Anyway, back to the story. Boy, I hope you all actually want to read this story. You've all probably forgotten the whole storyline by now. I'll refresh everyone's memory: Arlen and Dawson have walked in on the other guy who wants the Eye of Diom; Meg's hiding under the reception desk; Basil, Mrs. Butler, Hunter, and his ninnies have just entered the Indiya Inn; and Toby is waiting outside in an alley. Don't forget that Arlen is afraid of dogs. Okay, I think that's it. Enjoy.

* * *

It took Dawson a minute to recognize the elderly mouse. "But you're-"

Before he could finish his sentence, the mouse shoved Dawson over with an unexpected strength, and then rushed out of the room.

* * *

Hunter shoved Basil up to the desk.

"Good evening," Basil said brightly to the innkeeper. "We need the key to room Number Fourteen."

My heart jumped at the sound of the detective's voice. He was supposed to be with the kidnappers; what was he doing here? I then realized that they were all probably there- Basil, Mrs. Butler, and the kidnappers.

The innkeeper looked warily at the whole group. "That room's occupied."

Now I knew that we were in trouble. The other guy was probably already in there!

"Oh. Well, I need to get into that room," Basil replied. "It will only take a minute."

"No. I can give you another room-"

"We're not looking for another room!" Mrs. Butler cut in. "We need that room!"

"It's occupied ma'am, which means that someone else is already in there."

"Listen buddy!" Hunter snarled, pulling out a gun and pointing it in the poor man's face. "We are going in there whether you like it or not!"

"Don't shoot!" The innkeeper screeched, ducking under the desk.

He bumped into me. I shrieked because I had been discovered. He shrieked because he had not expected to find someone already under his desk.

I pushed the innkeeper aside and scrambled out from under the desk.

"Meg?" Basil asked, baffled. "What are you doing here?"

"What is this?" Hunter snarled.

At that exact moment someone flew out of a room overhead and down the stairs carrying a bust with him.

"STOP THAT MOUSE!" Arlen Gillespie yelled from the top of the stairs.

"It's... the butler?"

"Luther?" Mrs. Butler said weakly. "What are you- come back here!"

I leaped over the desk and ran after Luther, the Butlers' butler.

Basil started to follow Meg when Hunter pressed a gun to his head. "You're not going anyway until I get my emerald!"

"You fool! That mouse just took your emerald!" Arlen exclaimed.

"What are you doing here Gillespie?" Basil asked, slightly annoyed at having no idea what was going on.

Dawson appeared next to the Mouseland Yard official. "We came here to get the emerald before someone else did."

"What? Where is the Eye of Diom?" Hunter yelled.

"_Beneath an Emperor / And within another of the same_," Dawson recited from memory. "The butler got a hold of our final clue, and is now currently running off with a bust which contains the Eye."

"WHAT?" Hunter took off after Luther and Meg.

Basil followed.

After the detective left, the henchmen exchanged uneasy looks. They did not appear to know what to do now that Hunter was gone.

Dawson and Arlen looked at each other, as unsure as the henchmen. "What are we going to do?"

* * *

Luther was amazingly fast for such an old mouse. I could barely keep up with him as I chased him through the streets of London.

"COME BACK HERE!" I shrieked.

Luther glanced back at me, but gave a little laugh when he saw that it was a woman who was chasing him. He turned a corner.

When I finally reached the corner, I saw Luther sprawled out on the ground. He must have tripped. The bust was lying several feet away.

The riddle started to make sense to me. The bust was of Julius Caesar. The Eye of Diom was inside the bust!

I made for the bust but as I passed Luther he grabbed the hem of my dress, preventing me from moving forward. I kicked his arm to get him to let go of me.

Hunter appeared. He took out a pistol and aimed it at us.

"NO!" Basil tackled him, sending both of them to the ground. He screamed at me, "Meg, GET OUT OF HERE!"

Luther let go of me, sending me sprawling to the ground. He ran to the bust, but I grabbed his trousers as he passed me, tripping him. I got up and attempted to get the bust again, but Luther grabbed my foot again, causing me to trip. We were only moving forward by inches. It was starting to get ridiculous.

As we both got up once again Luther pulled out a knife and faced me. "Move," he said in a low voice, "or I'll kill you."

I pulled out my switchblade. "I'd like to see you try."

He stood there in shock for a few seconds, probably deciding whether it was worth fighting me or not. A few drops of rain started to fall around us.

By this time Basil and Hunter were on the ground fighting for the gun. Luther must have been inspired, because he then replaced the knife for a revolver.

"Now... MOVE!"

* * *

"Hunter's left us here with the broad and her two little brats!" one of the henchmen, an albino mouse, shouted from the top of the stairs. "We get nothing out of the deal. He just wants the Eye for himself. And we stupidly believed the bastard!"

Several of the kidnappers muttered amongst themselves. Dawson could sense a situation arising. He nudged the Yardie. "Gillespie, I fear they're going to rebel," he whispered. "We have to get Mrs. Butler and those children out of here!"

The Mouseland Yard official nervously tugged at his tie.

Dawson felt irritated; Gillespie did not even look like he cared. "Well what are we going to do?" the doctor snapped.

"I don't know!" Gillespie exclaimed. Dawson realized that Gillespie did care; he was just uncertain as to the best course of action to take without anyone getting hurt or killed.

"Hunter's only thinking of himself!"

"Yeah, the yellow-livered bastard!"

Dawson began to inch toward Mrs. Butler and the children, unnoticed by the kidnappers.

"So what are we going to do about it?" the albino mouse questioned.

"Let's get that detective! He has the Eye!"

Dawson took Mrs. Butler's arm and led her, Rose, and Michael away from them.

"Wait!" one of them called out.

"What is it?" the albino asked impatiently. Dawson and company had reached the door.

"We have Butler and the kids. Hunter has nothing to bargain with. Why don't we just offer them all up?"

The kidnappers instinctively looked toward Mrs. Butler, but did not see her where she had last been standing. The albino scanned the room, and caught sight of them as they were leaving.

"Hey! They're trying to escape!"

"RUN!" Dawson said, shoving them out the door.

The rain came down more quickly. I hesitated. Luther could kill me, but the Eye was vital to saving Mrs. Butler's children. I could not let anything happen to them.

The gun Hunter and Basil had been fighting over clattered to the ground a few feet away from me.

My brain was trying to form some sort of plan, but nothing came. The gun was too far away from me. Luther was armed and ready.

He began to move sideways towards the bust, still keeping his weapon trained on me. I watched helplessly as Luther picked the bust up.

Dawson whistled as they ran out of the Inn. A moment later Toby bounded out of the alley.

"Get them Toby!" Dawson yelled, pointing to the kidnappers.

For once the bloodhound listened. He leaped over the doctor and barked at the kidnappers. They scrambled over each other to get back inside.

Arlen laughed as he watched Toby paw at the chipped green doors, trying to get to the kidnappers. "Never thought a dog could be a lifesaver!"

* * *

"MEG!" Basil cried out. His voice sounded so panicked that my heart practically jumped out of my chest.

I tore my eyes away from Luther only to discover Hunter running past me, holding a bloodstained dagger. Luther's gun went off. I threw myself to the ground, while Hunter attacked Luther. I got up and looked at them. I saw the bust go sailing through the air. It hit the ground and smashed into a thousand pieces.

Hunter managed to club Luther with his own revolver, temporarily stunning him. He got up and frantically scattered the broken pieces apart. He held up the largest emerald I have ever seen.

"Finally, it's mine!" Hunter cried triumphantly.

Luther stumbled to his feet. "It's mine!" he said, lunging for it.

Hunter took off, Luther hot on his heels.

As their footsteps died away, I breathed a sigh of relief. It was over. I did not care who had the emerald now. It was finally over.

"Basil, did you see that? They're gone! Hunter can't hurt Mrs. Butler's children now!" I turned to him. "Basil?"

He was lying on the ground, his hands against his side. "Meh... Meg?" The rain pattered around us.

I could tell something was terribly wrong. I hurried to his side. "Basil? What is it?"

"Nothing..." he said quickly, trying to get up. He turned pale, and slowly lay back down again. I saw his hands were covered in blood.

My stomach did somersaults. "Basil, what happened?" I cried in a high-pitched voice, trying my best but miserably failing to be calm.

"Hunter tried... ah, nicked me a bit."

I took his hands and moved them away from the wound. Blood was slowly pouring out of a gash in his side. I almost threw up.

"Oh God..." I said weakly. "No God, no!"

* * *

Mrs. Butler hugged Rose and Michael to herself.

"My darlings, my sweet little dears... Oh, how Mummy missed you!"

Dawson smiled in satisfaction.

"Uh oh," Arlen said quietly.

"What is it?" Dawson asked.

Arlen pointed down the street. Someone had called Mouseland Yard.

* * *

_(Meg is still tied to the chair.)_

Meg: I hate you, you hate me, let's tie Barney to a tree...

_(RAEB enters, takes a look at Dr. Sno, squirts him with a water bottle, and then darts out of the room.)_

Dr. Sno: _(grabs his water bottle and runs from room)_ GET BACK HERE MISS RACHEL! I KNOW YOUR MOTHER! I'VE WORKED WITH HER FOR YEARS!

Meg: _(jaws drop)_ RAEB never does stuff like that...

_(JWJ walks in.)_

JWJ: Haha, look at you all tied up and watching "Barney and Friends," of all things!

Meg: GET ME OUT OF HERE!

JWJ: Not until you agree to destroy all the John Kerry propaganda that is littering this school. Like the Kerry/Edwards signs in the composition teacher's room, and that bulletin board you decorated in your history teacher's room for Kerry.

Meg: Let me think... NO! I DON'T CARE!

JWJ: Fine. _(Exits)_

Meg: Hey, come back! No fair!


	14. Hail, Caesar!

Chapter Fourteen

Hail, Caesar!

* * *

_(Leigh enters and unties Meg)_

Leigh: JWJ really messed up that rescue mission, didn't he?

Meg: You guys sent _him_ to rescue me?

Leigh: Yeah. We didn't even have to bribe him this time.

Meg: All he did was come in here and taunt me!

Leigh: We were wondering what was taking him so long.

Meg: Morons. Never trust that political nutjob ever again!

* * *

"Excellent work Mr. Gillespie on your first case," Inspector Gordon congratulated the Irish mouse on the capture of the kidnappers.

"But it was really Dr. Dawson," Arlen said, motioning to Dawson. "In fact, I pretty much did..." but Gordon had walked away. Arlen sighed. "Nothin'."

Dawson smiled at the young man. "You still helped us a great deal."

Arlen's eyes grew wide. "What happened to Mr. Basil and Miss Megana?"

* * *

"It's not as bad as it looks," Basil said, trying to sound reassuring.

"God, Basil!" I cried, practically going into hysterics. "He stabbed you! Basil! He _stabbed_ you!"

"Meg, calm down!"

"No... I... you... we need Dawson." I took some comfort at this thought. "Yes, Dr. Dawson can help you! I'll get him-"

"No!" Basil cried. "No, don't leave. Stay here with me."

That comment terrified me. Was he dying? "You need help..." I said, feeling so powerless. "Is it..." I stopped.

Basil smiled weakly. "It's not deep. I don't think it hit any vital organs. I think I'll be fine. But we need to stop the blood."

Basil instructed me how to bandage the wound using handkerchiefs and his Inverness cape. It calmed me down somewhat.

Basil put pressure on the makeshift dressings to stop the bleeding. I took off my cloak and covered him with it.

Basil shook his head. "I don't need it."

"Yes you do. It's raining."

I tried to make Basil as comfortable as possible. Then I said, "I'll go get Dr. Dawson."

"No. Stay with me."

"Basil! You need help! No one knows we're here. There'll be no one coming to our aide."

He looked up at me with his jade green eyes. "Please Meg..." they seemed to say.

I lifted up the cloak and looked at the dressings. I placed my hands on top of his and pressed them.

"Your hands are so cold," Basil said quietly.

"Yours are so warm." I did not mention that it was because they were covered in fresh blood.

We sat there in silence for some time. I thought of how Basil had slipped from the bell in the bell tower yesterday morning at the Butler Manor. How much greater my fear for him was now!

I was starting to get soaked. I shivered.

"Put the cloak on," Basil urged.

"No."

"Stop being stubborn."

"You're the one being stubborn! You need help! We need to get help!"

"Put the cloak on! You'll catch a cold!"

"You'll go into shock!"

"No I won't!"

I looked at him sadly. Here he was, possibly dying, and we were arguing! What was wrong with us?

"Basil... how does it feel?"

"It's all right."

"Tell me the truth. Describe it. Just don't say it's all right, because it's obviously not!"

Basil closed his eyes. "I don't mean to pain you like this. I just don't want you to worry."

"Too late," I said, a tear falling from my eye. Luckily it was raining and his eyes were shut. "I can't help it. I can't lose you." My voice cracked.

Basil's left hand moved from under my right hand, and pressed my right hand more firmly on the dressing. I could feel some of the blood seep through. He opened his eyes and looked at me lovingly.

"How can I go? You're holding in my life's blood within me."

I let out a sob. Basil weakly squeezed my hand. I forced myself to calm down. "You shouldn't be comforting me," I said quietly. "You're the one suffering."

"Why should I suffer? You're taking care of me." He shuttered. "Don't leave me!"

I tucked the cloak more tightly around him. "I'm here! Basil, I'm here!"

He gripped my hand a little tighter. "Don't stop talking. I need to hear your voice."

I remembered how he had brought me back when I had been sick with typhoid.

"Basil, I love you with all my heart, all my soul. I can't live without you. With you I am home. I am home..." I trailed off. _I am finally home._

"Meg?" he pleaded.

"I love you. You are the one who has saved me from evil, from myself and my misery and loneliness. You are my only hope..." I started to choke up.

"N'arrête pas, ma copine," Basil whispered.

"I won't stop..." I assured him, even though I did not know what to say next. What could I say?

I began to sing:

"_I heard your voice, love_

_In my heart, love_

_I knew I'd find you soon_

_The one who saved me_

_From my misery_

_I will be yours soon_

_This is not the end_

_Soon we'll be home again_

_Darling, can you hear me?_

_Do not leave me_

_You will be_

_Safe with me and..."_

I heard barking in the distance. I stopped singing and gripped Basil's hand.

Toby came into sight carrying Dawson, Arlen, and several Mouseland Yard officials.

"DAWSON! DAWSON! OVER HERE!" I jumped up and waved my bloodstained hands to get their attention.

Toby knelt down so the mice could dismount.

I bent down to Basil. "Help is here!" I whispered. "You'll be all right. Hang in there, dearest."

Dawson was the first to reach us.

"Thank goodness you two are all right!" Then he saw my blood-covered hands. "My God, what happened?"

* * *

Half an hour later Basil left for the hospital in an ambulance. I watched it leave, still not entirely relieved. They would not let me in the ambulance with him. I fidgeted, praying that he would be all right.

Dawson came up to me and put a blanket around my shoulders. "You should get these wet things off," he said sternly.

I pulled the blanket tightly around me. "I'll be all right."

"Meg..." Dawson warned.

"I know," I sighed. "Dawson, I'm afraid for him."

Dawson patted my shoulder. "He's strong. He'll pull through."

I remained staring in the direction the ambulance went. "Can we go to the hospital soon?"

"Soon," Dawson promised.

Suddenly Arlen called out, "Megana! Dr. Dawson! I want to speak with you." He stood next to the broken bust, his arms folded, his head bent.

We walked over to him. "Yes?"

Arlen nudged a large piece of ceramic with his foot, revealing a crumbled ball of paper.

I cocked my head and gave Arlen a questioning stare. He nodded at me.

I bent down and picked it up. I opened it.

It read:

"_And you thought I meant that Caesar!_

_Only Thee, terrible but great_

_First emperor to unite Thy lands_

_Hail, first Caesar!_

_Beneath an emperor,_

_And within another of the same."_

I handed the paper to Dawson. He read it, and then handed it to Arlen.

"What do you make of it?" the doctor asked.

"Is there something else we're supposed to find besides the Eye of Diom?" I asked.

"Megana, maybe, just maybe what you saw Hunter take was not in fact the Eye," Arlen suggested.

"But I saw it! It was huge!"

"We can't ignore this."

"There are those lines from the last riddle we had to solve: '_Beneath an emperor, / And within another of the same.'_" Dawson said. "What does that mean?"

We all exchanged bewildered glances.

"Where's Mrs. Butler?" Arlen finally said.

* * *

We made our way back to room Number Fourteen in the Indiya Inn. This time we had no trouble getting into the room, since Arlen was a part of the Yard and the Inn was essentially a crime scene.

Mrs. Butler had insisted on taking Rose and Michael with her. She seemed afraid of leaving them alone.

The room was small. It had the dark mahogany walls and green carpeting that had been in the lobby. A queen-sized bed of mahogany, covered with a dark green quilt, lay in the middle of the room. One green easy chair was snuggled up to the fireplace. A picture of Napoleon Bonaparte hung over the mantle.

I inspected the mantle where the bust of Julius Caesar had once been. There was a ring of dust marking where it had stood.

Mrs. Butler pointed to the stone fireplace. "There are faces carved into the stone!"

We stood back and inspected the fireplace. There were panels where the faces of various famous rulers were carved on the stone.

"This has to be what your husband was talking about," Dawson said.

I peered at one stone face. KING SOLOMON was inscribed underneath it.

Dawson started to read each inscription aloud.

"KING DAVID, ALEXANDER THE GREAT, LOUIS XIV, ELIZABETH, IVAN IV, CHARLAMANGE, JAMES I, KING SOLOMON."

I frowned.

Arlen reread each inscription. "Where the hell is Caesar?"

"Mr. Gillespie! There are children around!" Mrs. Butler scolded him.

Arlen turned red. "Sorry ma'am."

"None of these were ever Caesars. How does this work?" Dawson asked himself.

I racked my brains. "David, king of Israel, Solomon, king of Israel, Alexander the Great... was he king of Persia?"

"Macedonia," Dawson said. "Then he became _hegemon_ of Greece and king of Persia, Egypt, and parts of India."

I continued, "Louis XIV, king of France, Elizabeth, Queen of England, Ivan IV, czar of Russia, Charlemagne, emperor of... the Roman Empire, in the 800's. And James I, king of England."

Arlen tapped the section with Charlemagne's picture on it, as if it would give way. "None of these were Caesars!"

"What about the emperors?" Mrs. Butler suggested. "Charlemagne and Alexander the Great?"

Arlen tried tapping the panel with Alexander's face. Nothing happened. He tried pulling it out. "The stone's not even lose."

"Maybe the answer to the clue is somewhere else in the room," said Mrs. Butler.

Everyone split up and began to search the room for another answer.

I wandered over to a bookshelf near the fireplace and idly picked up a book, my mind on the eight faces of kings and rulers. The bust could have been easily moved, but those faces could not. There did not appear to be anything in the actual fireplace itself either.

I ran over the histories of the monarchs in my heads, remembering the lines from the poem. Alexander had united many lands, but Elizabeth had united Protestants and Catholics in England, and James I had united Scotland with England.

Then why call this ruler a Caesar? What did Caesar mean anyway?

I snapped shut the book in my hand as a random historical fact from my schoolgirl days flared up in my thoughts.

I approached the fireplace and inspected the faces again. Then I pulled a block of stone with the image of a bearded man out of its place, revealing a small cubbyhole. I reached in and pulled out a green gem the size of a freshly rolled ball of yarn.

The Eye of Diom? How was that possible?

* * *

Hunter stood at the bow of a cargo ship, watching London as he drifted further and further away from it. He patted the lump in his pocket to make sure the Eye was still there. He had not gotten a chance to look at it since he had found it. He did not even dare glance at it for fear of attracting one of the sailors. He smiled. He had killed the butler to get him off his back, finally in possession of the object of his desire for eight long years.

The sun was starting to rise. Hunter glanced around him. There was no one in sight. He plunged his hand into his pocket and pulled out the emerald. He knew it would be magnificent in the early morning light.

Hunter examined the emerald, beaming like a little kid who has just received a new toy. The grin on his face quickly vanished, however, as he brought the emerald closer to his face. Something was terribly wrong.

There appeared to be scratches on the inside of the emerald. Hunter held the gem up to the light. The scratches were actually words carved within the gem:

YOU LOSE

* * *

One sailor walking on the deck heard a horrific shriek come from the bow. He hurried toward the source of the cry.

The passenger they had taken on was having a fit.

"DAMN YOU TRUBLE! DAMN YOU! DAMN YOU! ARGH!" He smashed a large glass orb on the deck and then stomped on the pieces. They cut through his shoes.

The sailor tried to restrain him.

"Sir, stop that!"

The enraged man picked up a piece and slashed the sailor across the face. He then picked through the pieces, screaming, "WHERE IS IT? WHERE IS THE EYE?"

Other sailors ran to the first sailor's aide. It took four of them to restrain the man.

"Tie him up! That's it, tie him!"

"I'LL GET YOU FOR THIS, TRUBLE!" he screamed as they beat him down.

* * *

Meg: Anyone else confused?

Sarah: Yeah. Why did you stab Basil?

Leigh: She wondered, "How can I twist the plot a bit? Ah, I know. Let's stab Basil!"

Meg: Grrrr.

Sarah: Tell me you didn't kill him.

_(Ratigan enters_.)

Ratigan: (s_arcastically)_ Oh yes, please don't kill dear Basil. No, let Basil live so you can write stories about him falling in love-

RAEB: And defeating you.

Ratigan: WHAT?

Meg: RAEB! Don't encourage him! He still wants to have me killed!

Ratigan: No. Actually, that "assassination plot" was just a farce. I wanted to scare you out of your wits and have you tortured by your old science teacher. _(laughs)_ Wasn't it marvelous?

_Meg: _I can't take it anymore! AIE! _(tackles Ratigan)_


	15. The Eye of Diom

Chapter Fifteen

The Eye of Diom

* * *

Meg: Belphegor, I'm not going to be anywhere near Bordeaux! I'm going with an educational program through our school, and our teacher decided to sign us up to go to the Eastern provinces such as Burgundy, Alsace-Lorraine and Champagne. Cities like Strasbourg, Reims, I think St. Germain... we're visiting those. This is a ten-day expedition, so we can only do so much. I would have loved to have visited you in Bordeaux!

* * *

I looked around me. No one had noticed that I had found the Eye of Diom… except Michael.

"Look Mummy!" he said, pointing to the emerald.

Mrs. Butler turned around. Her eyes grew wide at the sight of the green stone in my hand. "You've found it?" she asked quietly.

Arlen and Dawson turned around too. "You solved the clue!" Dawson exclaimed. "How in the world..."

"Elementary, my dear Dawson," I grinned, imitating Basil. I held up the image of the "caesar" we had been looking for. "Ivan IV, otherwise known as Ivan the Terrible, declared himself the first czar of all Russian lands. And 'czar' literally means 'caesar.'"

"But... how?" Mrs. Butler asked, approaching me.

I tried to give her the Eye but she brushed it away. She went to the cubbyhole and reached inside. She pulled out a rolled up bundle of papers.

We all gathered around her. She unrolled the papers and began to read:

_Congratulations. You have solved the final clue. You have found the real Eye of Diom. The one in the bust was a fake. _

_You have proven yourself far more worthy of this Eye than I ever was._

_Danielle, there is a great deal about my past life of which you know nothing. You know I had a brother, but he disappeared some time before I started to make my fortune. And he was killed in the Pacific. No, not killed. Murdered. My kid brother was murdered._

_The Butler family has always been ambitious. You know this from my own experience, Danielle. But you never knew that my brother was the co-owner of the largest mining company in the diamond mines of India. Perhaps you've heard me speak of it: TRUBLE AND HUNTER INC. _

_You are probably wondering how he could be co-owner when the company does not bear his name. Perhaps Mr. Basil can help you with this one._

_TRUBLE is BUTLER rearranged. _

_A love of word games and riddles must run in the family, for Paul was as fond of them as I._

_That is not important. What is important is that he was murdered for vile and evil reasons. In fact, the deed was carried out by an old suitor of yours... Garret Hunter. _

_Why? Because Hunter wanted my brother's share of the company. Paul knew this. He also knew that Hunter wanted the Eye of Diom, a gem their company had found that is even more valuable than Hunter's, Paul's, and my own fortune combined. Paul was proud. He knew he was doomed. The night before he was murdered he sent the Eye of Diom to me and begged me, as a final request, to guard it from Hunter._

_I have done so. And now I entrust it to you, Danielle. You are the wisest woman I have ever known, and I know that whatever you choose to do with it will be for reasons good and pure. _

_I love you, and Rose and Michael. I am always with you._

_Love,_

_Thomas_

Mrs. Butler took the Eye from me. She stared at it, dumbfounded. Rose came up to her mother and hugged her waist. Michael hugged her legs. Mrs. Butler started to sob.

* * *

Dr. Dawson, Mrs. Judson, and I sat in some chairs in the corridor outside the operating room, nervously awaiting news of Basil's condition. I stared dumbly at the ground, feeling mentally and emotionally drained.

"Why are they taking so long?" I moaned.

"They're making sure that they do the best job they can on Mr. Basil," Mrs. Judson said, trying to be cheerful.

I knew she was trying to make me feel better, but it only made me feel more anxious. I needed to see for myself that Basil was all right. I twisted a corner of the shawl I was wearing. All I wanted was for him to be all right.

"Dawson, is he going to be all right?"

The doctor patted my knee. "Like I said before, Basil's strong. Before you know it he'll be back on his feet, hot on another case."

I laid back and rested my head against the wall, closing my eyes.

After a while Dawson said quietly, "You know he was a complete wreck the whole time you were sick with typhoid? He barely ate or slept. He stayed with you whenever he could."

"I want to be with him," I said softly.

"You will be."

I heard footsteps approaching us. I opened my eyes and saw Dr. Jones.

Dawson stood up. "How is he?" he asked. I studied Dr. Jones' expression. He was not smiling. My heart sank.

"It was a big gash," said Dr. Jones, "but luckily it wasn't deep. We stitched him up." The doctor finally smiled. "He'll be up and about in a week or so."

I was so relieved. "Can we see him?" I asked anxiously.

"I'm sorry, but he's still recovering," said Jones.

"Jones, he's not the type to sit around 'recovering.' I think he'd rather see us first," Dawson said, winking at me. "He may be one of the most brilliant minds in the world, but he can also be quite a nuisance when it comes to being forced to rest for more than two minutes."

Jones shook his head. "He needs rest."

"A word, Jones," Dawson said, putting a hand on the doctor's shoulder and leading his a few paces away.

Mrs. Judson smiled. "Thank heavens Mr. Basil's not hurt badly." I nodded in agreement as I watched Dawson and Jones argue quietly. "Where's the millionaire's wife?" the landlady asked.

"She's being questioned at Mouseland Yard."

Jones and Dawson returned to us. "All right, Mr. Basil can have one visitor," Jones said reluctantly.

I looked in amazement at Dawson. He nodded for me to go ahead, beaming. I embraced him. "Thank you, Dr. Dawson!"

"Help him recover more quickly," he replied.

* * *

Dr. Jones led me to Basil's room. "Here," he said. "Don't excite him too much."

I repressed a smile. "I won't."

The doctor opened the door for me and I went it.

Basil was dozing when I entered the room. He was shirtless, a large cloth bandage wrapped around his abdomen. I pulled up a chair and set it next to the bed. I sat down and took his hand.

He opened his eyes.

I leaned in and kissed him. "Good morning, darling."

Basil frowned. "It's morning? How long have I been here?"

"Only a couple of hours."

"Where's Mrs. Butler?"

"At Mouseland Yard."

"Are her children all right? "

"Yes."

"Did they catch Hunter?"

"No. And they found the butler. He's dead."

Basil sighed. "He didn't have to be involved. He probably only wanted to get rich fast. Well, that blasted Eye is no longer our problem."

"Basil, we found the Eye."

He sat up. "You found it?" I pushed him back down. "But how?"

I told Basil about the final clue. He groaned.

"Warn her. Tell Mrs. Butler that it will never bode her any good. Tell her to get rid of it!"

"Basil! Calm down!"

"Promise me you will warn her!" he exclaimed.

"Why?"

"Promise me, Megana!"

I grasped his hand. "I promise! But why?"

"Because the Eye is evil. There are those who will still torment her for it. Next time there may be more casualties. Someone else close to her will be hurt."

I stroked his faced. "I will tell her," I said soothingly. "Don't worry."

Basil seemed to relax a bit. Then he said, "You don't have to stay here."

"I want to. I would rather be with you than anywhere else."

He closed his eyes. I thought he wanted to be alone. "Well, get some rest," I said, standing up.

"No!" His eyes popped open. "Stay beside me. Right here, beside me." He motioned to the spot on the bed next to him. "I want you near me."

I lay down on the bed next to him. "You're a mystery, Mr. Basil of Baker Street," I said softly. "You act like you're not even glad to see me, and then when I go to leave you beg me to stay!"

Basil took my hand. "Love... it's so strange..." he muttered to himself. "I am doing everything all wrong! I don't even know what to do."

"What is there to do?"

"Sometimes I see your disappointment, and I know I am doing it all wrong."

Moments when Basil avoided looking at me, when he was colder towards me than usual, times when he got impatient with me came to mind. There were times when I, however, I confused Basil, when I got angry over trifles and lost my temper, when I changed moods at the blink of an eye, or started arguments. I blushed.

"So am I," I said quietly. "I'm doing it all wrong. Basil, we're all doing it all wrong! But who can do it right?" Basil started to answer when I kissed him. "I love you Basil. That's the reason I'm here now, right besides you. That's the reason I'm not going to leave you until that doctor comes in and drags me away!"

I could feel him smiling. "They'll never let you back in here."

I laughed softly. "I'll find a way to get back in here."

"And break a million rules doing it."

"Of course."

Basil chuckled. "What am I going to do with you?"

I closed my eyes. "You're the detective. You figure that one out."

We were silent for a few minutes, enjoying being in the other's presence.

"Meg, do me a favor. Go back with Mrs. Butler to Sussex today. Make sure she'll be all right."

"Mmhm," I muttered. "And Basil?"

"Yes?"

I grinned. "Make sure you don't harass the nurses too much."

I could feel him turn his head towards me. I opened my eyes. "Now why would I harass the nurses?"

"Because you're the grumpiest patient in the world!" I said, laughing. "Remember how you caught a bad cold in January?"

"Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"You gave poor Dawson such a hard time because he wouldn't let you out of bed!"

Basil reached behind him, pulled out a pillow, and smacked me with it.

"Hey!" I protested. "You're messing up my hair!"

Basil grinned. "That's not that hard to do."

My hands flew up to my hair. "I've been walking around like this?" I exclaimed.

Basil kissed my forehead. "You're still the most beautiful creature in the world. More precious than most valuable emerald, than anything else could ever be."

* * *

_(Ratigan rubs some bruises on his arms.)_

Ratigan: You're vicious all of a sudden.

Meg: I'm a woman on the edge, so stop sending my old teachers to assassinate me!

Ratigan: A woman, eh? More like a little girl who writes trash.

JWJ: Yeah, this chapter really stinks.

Meg: Oh, shut up. It's mushy and probably stupid, but I really don't care. I just kept writing and couldn't really stop.

Ratigan: And you keep talking and won't stop. Do spare us all.

Meg: No one's forcing you to stay! Really, why don't you just leave?

Ratigan: _(sighs) _I was staying to tell Dr. Sno that he doesn't have to kill you, but if you really want me to go- _(starts to leave)_

Meg: _(__panics)_ No, wait!


	16. Endings

Chapter Sixteen

Endings

* * *

Dawson and I went to Mouseland Yard later that morning, only to discover that Mrs. Butler had already headed back to Sussex with her children. We took our third train in three days. Neither of us had had a good night's sleep in three days, so we fell asleep on the train and nearly missed our stop.

We went to the Manor, but were informed by a maid that Mrs. Butler had gone to the hospital with her children.

Upon entering Thomas Butler's hospital room, we found Mrs. Butler talking to her unresponsive husband and holding his hand. My heart ached for the poor woman. I remembered earlier this morning holding Basil's hand and talking to him while receiving responses. Then I imagined Basil and I in the Butlers' position. How thankful I was that everything had turned out all right!

Michael and Rose had fallen asleep on hospital chairs next to their mother.

Dawson cleared his throat. "Good morning Mrs. Butler."

Her head shot up, but she smiled when she saw us. "Dr. Dawson. Miss Havers. How is Mr. Basil?"

"He's going to be himself in no time," Dawson said.

Despite the fact that her husband was still unresponsive, Mrs. Butler looked relieved at the news of Basil's condition. "Thank God! Bless that man. He risked his own life to save my children. I am forever grateful for what he has done for us."

"Mrs. Butler?" I said cautiously. She looked at me questioningly. "What are you going to do with the Eye now?"

Her face fell. "I haven't really thought of that yet."

"Ma'am, Basil wants you to get rid of it as soon as possible."

Her eyes met mine. "Why?"

"He... well..." I looked to Dawson for help, but the doctor shrugged. I did not know how to answer her. "He... he thinks that it will cause you grief..."

"He believes that others will be after it?" she asked. "That I will never be safe from those who would want it for themselves?"

I nodded.

Mrs. Butler sighed, and looked at her husband. "The Eye is loathsome to me. My husband has had to pay a terrible price because of it. My children have become its victims. I am afraid that they will never recover from their ordeal."

"They have you," Dawson said quietly. "You remained strong despite the odds against you. They have an admirable mother who serves as an example of strength and courage."

Mrs. Butler took the Eye from her pocket.

"Tom, why did you keep it?" she asked. "Why?" She stared at him, as if he would wake up and answer her. She took a deep breath, and turned back to us. "Well, apparently the Eye now legally belongs to Tom, to our family. Mouseland Yard was quick to inform me of that this morning when I presented the Eye and the papers to them. But now that the danger is past, I never want to see it ever again! I'd rather it was destroyed, along with its trail of blood."

She rose from her chair and held the Eye out to me. "Take it," she said.

I pushed her hand away. "I can't do that!"

"Take it," she persisted. "I don't care what you do with it, just get it out of my life!"

"But Mrs. Butler, Basil wouldn't let me accept this!"

"I'll pay him for his services-"

"That's not what I mean!"

"And I mean something entirely different as well," Mrs. Butler said. She looked at us pleadingly. "If you won't accept it, then please take it to London, and throw it in the Thames. No one ever needs to find it ever again."

* * *

Dawson and I stood on the Tower Bridge well after dark. I unwrapped the handkerchief holding the Eye of Diom. The emerald glowed in the faint lights of the streetlamps on shore. A thousand thoughts coursed through my head. _Couldn't the Eye be used for good? Surely you could sell it, use the money and give it to those who need it. You could do so much good!_

I felt frozen in place, as if I could not continue on to the next moment to complete the deed Dawson and I had set out to do. It seemed such a shame to throw it into a river where it would go to waste.

Dawson seemed to be reading my thoughts. "Meg, what good has it ever done for anyone?"

"But-"

"Is it really worth it?"

I thought that over, but I felt even more confused. I closed my eyes. I saw Basil. I pictured the look on his face if I brought the Eye back.

Without hesitation I hurled the Eye of Diom into the Thames. It made a plop as it fell into the water.

Dawson and I stared at the spot where it fell for a few minutes. I guess neither of us had really expected that I would throw it in. Finally Dawson turned away. "Well, that's over and done with. Let's go."

We never spoke of the Eye of Diom ever again.

* * *

Basil recovered with only a scar on the abdomen. He was back on his feet in a week.

Thomas Butler came out of coma around the same time. He was never quite the same after that. He had had considerable brain damage, but with the loving care of his wife he was able to recover better than any of the doctors had expected.

Arlen Gillespie did not get much recognition for his part in the case, but he did not mind. He became our ally within the Yard, and later helped us on several more cases.

Garret Hunter literally disappeared.

And we all went back to our normal lives, or as normal as one's life can be at Baker Street.

* * *

A few days after Basil came home from the hospital found the three of us sitting in the parlour in front of the fire. Dawson sat in an armchair reading a book. Basil had given up his armchair to share the space on the sofa with me. I leaned against his shoulder and watched him sketch a portrait of Dawson. It was a very rough sketch, but still ressembled the doctor in a distorted way.

Basil looked over at my pad of paper. I was sketching an image of a poor factory girl standing by a grave. My drawing was not very good either, but I had learned to not care after awhile.

"Why the grave?" he asked.

"I don't know. This image is stuck in my head."

There was a knock at the door. "Now who could that be?" Dawson asked getting up. Basil got up as well.

The doctor opened the door. "Is Mr. Basil of Baker Street here?" a young man asked.

"Yes, I am he," Basil said, straightening his cravat. "How can I be of service?"

The young man handed him a piece of paper. "I received this letter this morning, but I don't know who it's from or what it means. I had heard of the case you solved recently about the millionaire's riddles, and I was hoping that you could help me.

Basil read the paper out loud,

"_One across, thirteen down_

_Find a message in a bottle."_

"Hmmm... interesting," Basil said to himself. "And you are?" he asked the young man.

"Arthur Proctor."

"Mr. Proctor, where do you live?"

"In my uncle's house on Kings' Court.

"Does your uncle have a cellar? Perhaps a wine cellar?"

"Yes! How did you guess?"

"And are there thirteen stairs leading down into this cellar?"

"I'm not sure, but that could be."

Basil grinned, handing the young man the paper. "Your message is in one of the bottles of wine."

Proctor looked anxious. "Mr. Basil, there's more. My uncle has been missing for three months."

"Three months!" Basil exclaimed. "Have you gone to the police?"

"No sir. You see, he usually goes away for a while, and comes back without warning. But he has never been gone for over a month before."

"Well, this is a more serious matter," Basil said. "Tell me, does he usually leave with a valise?"

"Yes."

"Did he take one this time?"

"Yes he did."

"How much did he pack?"

"Enough for one week, but that's what he usually packs, regardless of how long he's leaving."

"And did he leave with anyone?"

"No."

"You did not know of his destination?"

I smiled to myself. Basil of Baker Street, hot on a case once more!

* * *

Meg: I am finally done! Whew, that story took longer to write than expected. I have several story ideas, but I don't know what I really think of them yet. Perhaps I'll write another story soon.

JWJ: Spare us!

Meg: _(continues unfazed)_ I also have an idea for a novel so I might be concentrating on that a little more than these fanfictions. But I promise to write another one no matter what!


End file.
